


Wishes Sometimes Come True

by Brennah_K



Series: Tiniest Wishes [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Even Severus has days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed., Father-Son Relationship, Hogwarts Second Year, Matchmaking Narcissa, Misuse of Time-Turner (No - It really doesn't do that), Not-Severitis, OOC!Harry, Recovery from child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've received a message or two noting that Harry seems a bit on the pathetic side here. I don't apologize for that, from the start this Harry hasn't been the - in my mind - unrealistically resilient Harry of the movies and novels. Nor were the Dursleys, in this fic, as benign for the majority of the time that the novels seem to imply. </p><p>I feel that by the time they would have gotten to the point of locking him a cupboard, not feeding him for days when he was younger and later -when they thought they might be watched a soup can's worth, swinging skillets at his head, allowing their son to indulge in "Harry Hunting" and hitting Harry openly with the school rod (I forget the name)... that realistically, the Dursleys behavior would have been far beyond the level of neglect implied in the novels and movies. As a result, I modeled this Harry closer to anecdotes and cases that I've heard of with heightened neglect and abuse.  </p><p>As a result, Harry isn't as emotionally developed (after all, how do you develop confidence when you're told by those closest you that your a good-for-nothing and freak and no one in your environment disputes it?). ...much less, self-reliant, and hasn't had the support to develop resilience and bravado we see in the movies, yet, but he will get there. He might even become the type of hero that we see in the final books, but it's going to take work on his and Sev's part to get there. </p><p>If he seems a little wibbly right now, just realize that for the first time in his memory, he's been told he's wanted, offered friendship, acceptance, and caring- after spending ninety percent of his life being told and shown the opposite by the Dursleys in word and deed (and not having it disputed by neighbors, teachers, or others in the community, who could have stepped in.)</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Uneasy Pleasantries

You may begin," Narcissa instructed the three boys quietly as she studied Harry and his muggle cousin.

While young Harry was diligently focusing on the assignment that she had set for them, his behemoth cousin could not manage to keep his squinting piggish eyes on his paper for more than ten seconds at a time. Instead the little oaf was staring at his cousin with a vague mixture of anxiety and malice tainting his pasty, sagging expression. Seeming to have no concept of subtlety the little brute was alternately attempting to catch Harry's gaze with a look of clumsy intimidation and watching his cousin with trepidation for the slightest untoward gesture that would no doubt send him into a lather.

"Mr. Dursley, may I speak with you a moment?"

"Uhhh. Yeah," The boy grunted piggishly still keeping his eyes anchored on his cousin.

Stepping to the door, Narcissa waited for the boy to follow… and …. waited, but the boy simply sat at the table, staring at his cousin but barely registering her presence with an occasional blank look. And this was the child that the simpering muggles doted on?

After glancing up at her with a barely concealed smirk, Draco brushed his fingers over his friend's writing hand to catch Harry's attention then flicked his fingers toward the bloated boy still sitting on the other side of him. When Harry glanced at his cousin, Narcissa was surprised to see him wince and pale before glancing quickly up at her then back to his cousin. For a moment, it seemed as though he were trying to gather his nerve before he turned to his cousin and whispered, "Dudley, Lady Malfoy would like to speak with you."

"I heard her, you stupid frea—." Narcissa nearly laughed Dudley broke off after apparently realizing that whatever he had been planning to say would have insulted Narcissa and Draco as well.

"Mr. Dursley?"

"Yeah, what?" the dim child asked.

"Dud, she wants to speak with you, privately."

"Then you two had better sod off and let us talk, hadn't you?" the little cretin retorted, seeming completely unaware of even the most basic courtesy due an adult, much less one of Narcissa's stature, who was being gracious enough to stoop to teaching him.

"Dud!" Harry's vivid green eyes shot toward Narcissa with an abject expression of apology, clearly embarrassed by his cousin use of such coarse language in mixed company. 

If it weren't for her desire to help Draco's little friend, Narcissa suspected that she would have hexed the little ape until he bowed and scraped as politely as a house elf. She was putting up with the little toad for Harry's sake, however, so returned an understanding smile then softened the tone she would have used into a mildly questioning lilt and asked the dunce far more politely than he deserved, "Won't you join me for a walk?"

ブレンキン

Suppressing a nervous twinge at the rasp of Ahhsitha's scales sliding across the chamber of secret's cool stone floor, Severus paused until he was certain his voice would be immune to the apprehension he felt at the ancient snake's approach and greeted her as Salazar's portrait had instructed.

"Greetings, Great Lady." Severus hissed confidently.

Between his time with Harry and Salazar's portrait having a resurgance of interest in teaching him to speak parsletongue, after learning that the basilisk was willing to converse with the castle's inhabitants again, Severus was rapidly gaining fluency with the obscure language and was increasingly able to hold conversations with her unaided though Salazar's portrait remained on hand to provide assistance when necessary.

"Greetings poison maker, I scent no venom on your fangs this morn." She teased, reminding him of the last time that they had spoken without Harry being present just before Harry's accident at the Malfoy's on Christmas Day, when Severus had apparated back to the castle – so angry with the basilisk for allowing Harry to harvest her venom as a Christmas gift for him that he had unintentionally torn through the anti-apparition wards surrounding Hogwart's property.

With a surge of magic that startled even the headmaster, Severus had apparated directly to her side and rained a slew of imprecations and threats down on her so venomous that even Salazar's portrait looked faintly scandalized by the time that the panicked Headmaster arrived, courtesy of Fawkes' magic. 

Once Fawkes had trilled Severus back to calmness and after an awkward explanation to the Headmaster regarding why Severus, Fawkes and Salazar's portrait had withheld their knowledge of Ahhsitha's presence – and another extended conversation to verify Ahhsitha's good intentions toward Hogwarts, its staff, and its student body), the headmaster admitted that he found the whole event quite amusing as it finally answered his long time question of whether there was anyone or anything too daunting for Severus when he was in full rant. 

Apparently, discovering Severus ranting full out at a two thousand year old basilisk was what it took to convince Dumbledore that no one was immune from Professor Snape's wrath when the mood took hold.

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"Mr. Dursley," Narcissa began gently, "You seem to be having some difficulty concentrating on your assignment. May I ask why?"

After giving the dolt a suitable distraction, Narcissa silently cast 'legillimens' as she slipped into his grubby mind. A brief experiment at the beginning of the summer had been enough to show her that she could easily enter his mind, but had not given her a clear idea of the utter rot that populated his mind.

A true product of his mother's simpering favoritism and his father's poorly managed temperament, Dudley Dursley cared for little outside his own immediate happiness and saw those around him, including his family, as little more than means to achieve that happiness. This was particularly true for his perception of his cousin, the fat brute viewed little Harry as equivalent to his own personal house elf; in the vile boy's mind, everything that Harry possessed - from Harry's clothing to the food he ate and… the cupboard he slept in – belonged to Dudley, was made for his pleasure, and should only be used toward his pleasure. Further, as far as Dudley was concerned, any failure in delivering his immediate satisfaction was unforgivable and could only be accommodated if Dudley had the personal pleasure of watching his discontent being taken out on his cousin's frail form.

Barely restraining the impulse to hex the fat little as she came to the previous evening's memory, Narcissa felt her sense of self-restraint stretched to its furthest. The evening before had resulted in Harry's near torture by the repulsive creatures that Dumbledore had the idiocy to grant little Harry's custody to – after the child had seemingly overturned a ludicrously decorated trifle into the hair of a potential client's wife. Though the act was far out of Harry's normal behavior, if the child had in fact behaved so brazenly, even Narcissa would have granted that the Dursleys would have had some marginal right to punish the child - though certainly not to the point of burning the child so severely that he lost consciousness.

Several facts stood out, however, that made Narcissa certain that punishment of any sort was completely unwarranted. First, the trifle had seemed to float steadily and rather swiftly toward the Dursley's guest – quite beyond the normal skill and quality of Harry's wingardium leviosa. Second, Harry had not been in possession of his wand – and wandless magic of this type was quite sufficiently removed from the general nature of Harry's wish magic, which to all reports focused on affecting his own physical being in one form or other. In short, it was quite unlikely that Harry would be capable of that level for several years at the very least. Third, Harry's expression had been one of anxious entreaty as he split his attentions between the trifle and someone seeming to stand in the kitchen, beyond Dudley's vision.

Convinced without question that neither her son, her husband, nor their close friend, Severus, was the instigator of the beating and torture that followed – Narcissa was immediately certain of two items – first, Harry was in immediate danger and second, the child could not remain in the custody of his relatives even a moment longer. In fact, the only question that remained in her mind was why Harry had not immediately brought the event to her attention.

ブレンキン

Enjoying the potion master's awkward shifting a moment more, Ahhsitha regarded the poison maker with amusement. After nearly twelve centuries of isolation and detached (thereby increasingly onerous) duty, it had been an odd recognition for her that once the young speaker revived that portion of her rarely used heart – its affiliation and affection had quickly extended to the poison maker. Beyond the treatment that the poison maker had shown her young speaker, many qualities recommended him to her.

For a human, his scent was pleasant to her and calming, unlike the scents of the castle's other inhabitants, whose scents filled Ahhsitha with the restless desire to hunt. His display of anger and venom when he last appeared to her, alone, had been impressive. 

There were very few things in existence that troubled her: the centaurs with their poisoned bows, the acromantula nests, and the thoughts of being again trapped in the tight enclosed spaces of the castle. Barring those – she had believed that nothing else could cause her true anxiety until she felt the snap of his magic depositing him beside her and the waves of anger rolling off of him – putting to end her apparently unfounded belief that humans in general and wizards in particular had little facility for experiencing and expressing strong emotions. His scent that day, unknown to him, had spoken volumes of his rage, fear, and worry – demonstrating better than anything else could that he shared an understanding of what being a guardian was – an understanding that had been lacking in the last dozen speakers, who had stumbled her way before the little speaker came to Hogwarts. 

It was even quite pleasing to her when she scented traces of her own venom in his clothing, evidence that he was already making use of the gift she had helped the young speaker give him.

"Yes," Severus agreed cautiously as he remembered the rank fool he had made of himself by popping like a house elf back to the castle to scold the unutterably dangerous creature for allowing herself to be swayed into helping Harry with his stunning Christmas gift. The thought of the dangers he had gone through to gather it troubled Severus even in the present; though, he winced as he remembered his reception to Harry's gift of two petrified acromantula's eggs filled to the cap with Basilisk venom – enough venom that if he had desired to sell it, Severus would have had sufficient funds to purchase the entire United Kingdom, four times over, or – alternately- the heritage rights and title of an ancient and noble house. Despite the avaricious gleam in Lucius's eyes, Severus had no intention of selling it, however, there were far too many unidentified and uncaptured death eaters remaining to ever chance releasing such an amount of venom onto the open market – without guaranteeing that the giver of the gift would receive its returns in tragic fashion. 

That was only one of the thoughts running through his mind as he had regrettably turned on Harry and harshly berated the child for taking such an insane risks.

Even with Ahhsitha practically crawling in the child's lap like a familiar, collecting basilisk venom was a complex task that had ended the lives of numerous potion collectors. The hazards involved were almost too numerous to count. To begin with, the only material that could contain undiluted basilisk venom was the fragile, petrified acromantula silk sack that surrounded the tree dwelling spider's eggs. While Ahhsitha had undoubtedly petrified the two large acromantula eggs (that the child had procured in perhaps his first truly Slythern deception – as a Christmas gift – for Ahhsitha), she could not have removed the still living larval spiders without destroying the eggs. That task had been left instead to Harry, who had by some means simply coaxed the creatures out and into Hagrids care to be added to Aragog's nest.

Then, even with Ahhsitha's cooperation, filling the eggs was an incredibly dangerous prospect as even a fifth of a dram on the skin was sufficient to kill an adult wizard of above average height and weight. Had a drip of it touched the child's skin, Harry would have been dead before the portrait could have summoned anyone's assistance. Even once the petrified eggs had been filled and sealed, it was not unknown for the delicate containers to crack and leak. More than a few experienced professionals had died due to leaking containers. Yet, the child had completed the task entirely without assistance then he carried the extremely fragile gifts with him to the Malfoy's, by floo no less, without given even his hosts notice until Severus had opened the delicately wrapped presents and nearly dropped them in shock before rounding on the child.

"Poison maker?" Ahhsitha questioned his silence as his scent suggested that his mood had suddenly become disturbed with some inner turmoil. 

Having no exposure to humans of any type wallowing in guilt, she could not draw the connection between the comments on the professor's mood that day and the little speaker's fall later that night. Severus, himself, wasn't even certain whether there was one, but the question over whether Harry had been distracted due to the potion master's comments when he fell still plagued Severus over sixth months later. He was no closer to an answer now than he had been then and shook himself back to the present to avoid further contemplation of the question.

ブレンキン

"Harry, may I have a word with you?" Narcissa inquired quietly as gestured for Dudley to return to his seat.

ブレンキン

"How goes the endless hunt?" Ahhsitha asked in the odd parsletongue way of asking how the day was passing.

"Shady, smooth, and full of meat, Great lady. Thank you for asking. Have you eaten well?"

"Sadly, no." She confided, "I let a spot of the sky's heat lure me into the open where prey could see and scent me.

"Ah." He replied, understanding easily. After being confined for centuries in the castle's cold recesses, it was only natural to expect that the cold-blooded creature would be tantalized by the sunlight.

"Harry's gift may be coming at a sharp-sighted moment then."

With a sweep of his wand, Severus summoned the small pile of acromantula eggs that he had ordered on Harry's behalf.

"More eggs?" Ahhsitha asked with excitement, before she continued, with a humorous lilt to her hissing, "Your nestling must question the sting of my venom to hunt for me so often."

"No, he savors your enjoyment of what he can give." Severus responded with a sigh and a bemused smile. 

Despite Lucius's lessons favoring politically motivated gift giving, Harry had spent days selecting gifts that he believed the recipient would truly enjoy over the gifts that the recipients would draw discussion and spread the giver's reputation. The discrepancy had been so apparent that Lucius had even been slightly miffed with the boy's choices, until Narcissa had complimented Harry on choosing gifts that witches and wizards would find so pleasing as to keep them always present and visible instead of tucked away as many of Lucius's gifts often were after the season ended.

"Odd little nestling, does he not understand that his guardians are to see to his hungers, not the reverse?" Ahhsitha hissed in what might have been a sighed complaint before descending on the gift with relish.

ブレンキン

Following Narcissa into an empty office several doors down from their study room in Grunnings' executive suite, Harry waited quietly for Narcissa to cast the customary privacy and silencing spells before she turned back to him. Even though she was studying him expectantly when she turned, he remained quiet – suspecting what she wanted to discuss, but afraid to speak before he was asked in case he was wrong.

Slipping into his thoughts, with the same gentle subtlety that she used to read Severus and Lucius unnoticed, Narcissa quickly came upon Dobby's visit and the reason behind it. Of course, the elf would have to be seen to, and her husband's plans changed; but that was a change that Narcissa would have preferred even without this occurrence. 

Prior to his fall, even as an adult, though charismatic, the Dark Lord had been prone to making rash – unpredictable decisions. The thought of restoring him as an impulsive, potentially volatile teen to a era that marked his fall with celebration, had seemed far from a sound idea when her sister brought the plan to Lucius's attention. Her husband, however, had been imprudently persuaded by the prospect of swaying several of his former cadre to his influence once more. 

Perhaps, should Dobby survive, his actions might merit a reward of some sort for bringing the change about, but first and more important, the child needed to be distracted to other questions…

"Harry, I thought Lucius was quite clear when he explained that our arrangement with Grunnings was set up for the sole purpose of documenting any and all mistreatment that you may have received at the hands of your relatives. Was he not?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The child answered in anxious tones, paling beneath her knowing gaze.

"Then, may I ask why you chose to withhold notice of how they mistreated you last night?"

"I-I c-can-n't ex-pla-in." Harry stammered as he ducked his eyes and flushed with shame.

"Your manner suggests that quite the opposite is true. When we are willing to put ourselves to inconvenience at your behest, I must say that it quite surprises me to find you will not do the same." Narcissa murmured in falsely disappointed tones. 

Frankly, she would have been pleased with the child's reserve, if the abuse had not been so extreme. Given what she had seen, however, she began to wonder whether he even had the ability to discern that his treatment had been extreme, or whether he was too damaged to recognize that it was even worth reporting.

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"Does he not understand that his guardians are to see to his hungers, not the reverse?"

Severus considered Ahhsitha's question quietly, having several times wondered a very similar question himself. Had he intervened in time, or had the Dursleys damaged the Harry too deeply for him to truly understand that he should be taken care of, protected, and cherished? And, if so, for Severus suspected that they had, was damage permanent?"

Though he had no way of knowing it, at that moment, both he and Narcissa had reached the same question: 'Given their treatment of Harry, what justice did the Dursley's deserve, in turn?"


	2. Minor Adjustments

"My question was hardly that complex, Harry. Would you care to explain why you find it difficult to cooperate with efforts to secure your wellbeing?" Narcissa smiled as his barely-concealed anxiety slipped away into an expression of furious thought. 

Slipping quietly in behind his preoccupation, Narcissa watched the child's mind work with camouflaged amusement. Harry really did have a very quick and agile mind; it was almost a wonder that he was second behind Draco in all of their classes, though Narcissa well-suspected that it was yet another sign of Harry's deference to Draco – and therefore acceptable for the present.

Watching him swiftly analyze and set aside several prudent but obvious lies, Narcissa almost laughed when he finally came upon the simplest and least costly option, given the behaviors and traits that he had noticed in her husband and herself.

"Ma'am, I was… encouraged to believe that you would not permit Draco to maintain friendships with someone who was pitiably weaker – someone who would need to be saved…particularly, someone who could not even protect himself from a muggle." Harry answered Narcissa frankly and honestly, not realizing that she had already run across Little Miss Bullstrode's lectures.

While Narcissa certainly understood the pressure that the child was under, the hopelessly blunt girl was going about her pursuit of Harry in quite a heavy handed manner… and, Narcissa suspected, would continue to do so until her situation were rectified. That certainly would not do at all. 

Miss Bullstrode's heavy-handed manipulations were hardly indicators of a promising future as a hostess…while Little Harry was proving himself an asset even in his silences and deferments, and Draco's attachment to the waiflike boy was as fierce as the patronage that Lucius once bestowed on Severus. In other words, having secured Pansy Parkinson as her son's future intended, it seemed that it would fall to her to secure his best friend's as well. Thankfully, she still possessed several files of lucrative information on the families of several prospective candidates.

"Ma'am?" his voice quavered in concern, drawing Narcissa out of her rapid planning.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Is it true, Ma'am? Did I lose Draco because I screwed things up?"

Putting on a seriously contemplative expression, Narcissa paused several seconds as she carefully withdrew from his anxious mind and gave the intentional impression that she was weighing the merits of his comment against the merits of his friendship. When he began to shift nervously from foot to foot, she finally decided that she had tortured him enough.

"Well, Harry. Had you been an adult wizard, imbued with all of your potential powers, legally able to use your magic, and trained in doing so, and dealing with a stranger… then, perhaps we would have qualms about your association, but that is hardly the situation. You are, to put it bluntly, a child, an under age wizard, legally bound and prevented from using your magic, without the benefit of your magical inheritance, and outweighed by your adult uncle by at least two hundred pounds. Harry, that is hardly pitiably weaker, in fact, your reserve would be laudable if the situation were not so severely stacked against you. You have not jeopardized your friendship with Draco in the slightest."

"Really?" Harry's exuberance returned to his eyes as he made an abortive move to hug her.

"Truly," She smiled smugly in response as she opened her arms to him and was hugged again. His foolish, simpering, muggle aunt simply had no idea what she was missing in the boy's affection and never would if Narcissa had her way. Before releasing him from the hug, she dipped her chin to press a quick kiss into his hair and chuckled when he stilled in surprise.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What was that?" His tone was pitifully hopeful as if he knew but couldn't believe that she would have stooped to kiss him.

"An affectionate kiss, Harry, Dear. Draco has already lectured me about not kissing him in public, so I'll promise you the same. No motherly kisses in public, but you're fair game when we are out of the public eye, as we are now." 

As she finished, Narcissa dipped her head to press a second kiss into his crown, before releasing him, and smiled sadly when she noticed that he was a millimeter away from standing on tiptoes – seeming to hold his breath in anticipation.

"Yes, Ma'am, b-but… I-I d-don't mind… I mean I wouldn't mind if you … you know."

Mrs. Dursley was rapidly moving to the top of Narcissa's to do list, and Narcissa knew quite exactly how to bring the bint down to the level she deserved – without causing any spectacle or blame for Harry to suffer.

"Thank you, Harry, Dear. Now, you do realize that you were behaving inappropriately when you withheld notice of your uncles' mistreatment, don't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Then, need not discuss the matter further; however, there is the matter of punishment. Respectable young men should always be held accountable for their actions, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The child offered without a trace of reluctance or hesitation.

"You can see, then, I am sure that your behavior can not go unaddressed."

"No, Ma'am… I … No, it shouldn't, Ma'am."

"Good, then. We seem to be in agreement. How does Severus punish you when you misbehave?"

"Ma'am?" His confused expression surprised Narcissa until she realized that the child had, apparently, never misbehaved for Severus. Well, that was hardly all that surprising, was it?

"How does he punish someone in your house when they misbehave?" She rephrased the question with an encouraging smile.

"He takes points, makes them write lines, and gives them a detention."

"Very well, after you have finished your exercises, while you are waiting for your cousin to catch up, you will write "I will not take second hand information as fact" two hundred times. Additionally, when your Aunt comes to pick your cousin up, I will explain that you have detention…" she held up her hand when he paled and seemed ready to protest, and continued clarifying, "for not finishing your exercises as adroitly as your cousin and that you will be staying to complete them so that you will not hold Draco or your cousin up tomorrow, and we will take you home when you have finished. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes, Ma'am, but…"

"Yes?"

"That wouldn't be proper punishment, Ma'am. I like to stay, I mean.'

"Thank you, but I assure you, I can think of a number of activities that will quell even the slightest thought of future misbehavior on your part – a fact that I am sure Draco can attest to. For instance, have you received any instruction in dancing?"

"N-n-n-o,"

"Dance it is, then. It won't be difficult at all to transfigure your current attire into tights and a singlet, but the shoes might be a little trickier. Perhaps, Draco can loan you one of his pair until we can have a set made for you."

"Tights? A singlet?"

"For ballet, Harry."

"But, I thought you meant ballroom, like the waltz or minuet."

"Ballet is a precursor to ballroom dancing. You will find the Schottische and the fox trot much easier to learn if you have first developed the proper balance and form."

"Oh…" he gulped softly, "Okay. Draco's learned, then? The same way?" He asked plaintively.

"Yes, but even if he had not…"

"I understand, it's my detention."

"Quite. I'll let you get back to your studies then, but before you go do you happen to have the journal that Severus gave you to keep in touch with him?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"May I borrow it for a moment?"

"Of course," he answered quickly, though she could see, without needing to read him that he was reluctant to give up his link to Severus.

"Just for a few moments, that's all. I would like to request that a few potions."

Nodding abruptly, he pulled the journal out of his pocket and pressed it into her hands then rushed back to the make shift classroom, pausing only once to look back at the book in her hands with an expression mournful longing as though he never expected to see it again.


	3. En Tournant

Lucius smirked at Narcissa over Draco's and Harry's heads as they reluctantly went to Draco's room to change.

"If you would like to assist in their lessons, Dearest, I can certainly summon Dobby with your uniform." Narcissa threatened lightly. While Lucius still practiced the art that had been drilled into him throughout his youth, he preferred to withhold that fact.

"No, My Fairest, there is no need to take Dobby away from whatever task you have him working on. I'm certain there will be many opportunities to coach their form; however, I believe there was an errand you wished me to handle with Severus."

"Yes, of course, how sweet of you to offer." Narcissa favored him with a humorous smile. His vanity was really quite amusing to her, at times. 

She knew that he still enjoyed their practice sessions and was often even playful as they practiced Le Corsaire Pas de Deux. His ego certainly enjoyed the benefits that ballet affected on his frame, grace, posture, and the admiration from others for his regal appearance, but with all that, his ego still quailed at allowing his son to perceive him as anything other than a bastion of masculinity.

Thinning her smile before he realized he was being mocked, even lovingly, she continued, "If you would pick up a small package of potions from him this evening, bring him up to date on the Dursleys' behavior, and while you are there, you might take the opportunity to discuss the matter that I mentioned."

"Narcissa…" he sighed, wondering if he would be better off swallowing his pride and summoning his uniform to help with the boys. "Severus is a confirmed bachelor and hardly the parental model, even if Harry trusts him implicitly."

"The first can be remedied easily and the second Harry is already changing. Do you not remember how well the got on at Christmas?"

"I remember Severus shrieking at Harry then disappearing on some foolish errand after the boy gave him the two basilisk eggs. Several Fortune's worth, and he did not even take the time to thank the child." Lucius muttered only vaguely disguising his jealousy. 

The child's gift to him had been perfectly acceptable, appropriate, and quite in line with the lectures in political gift giving that he had passed on to the child, but then the naïve child had turned around and given Severus a gift that would have made the Gringott's head goblin drool.

"Exactly, he chastised Harry for endangering his life over something as trivial as a gift and rushed off to take someone to task for allowing Harry to take such a risk. The headmaster, I would imagine. Exactly as any parent would have."

"Now, Narcissa…"

"Yes?" Lucius barely kept from cringing at the icy tone in his wife's voice.

Already a quick-tempered witch, Narcissa was barely her restraining her ire regarding the Dursleys, who couldn't be touched until the matter of Harry's custody was settled, and would be rather viscous, even with him, if he pushed her temper, too far.

"Who do you have in mind for Severus?" He asked switching tactics quickly. If Narcissa meant to see Severus married, the betrothal announcements would most likely go out before the end of the year, regardless of what either he or Severus had to say about it.

ブレンキン

Pressing his ear to the door, Draco waived a shushing hand at Harry who was struggling to pull his singlet's tabbed panels further down over his tights. When his parent's voices drifted off, he glanced back at his small friend and smirked.

"Give it up, Harry; it won't go any lower."

"But, it's showing my bits."

"Not with the dance belt, but don't worry - it's something you'll get used to pretty quick. You'll never guess what I just heard."

"Draco!" Harry scowled slightly, "You shouldn't listen in on your mom and dad. What if you got caught?"

"Oh, Mother would just give me more dance practice for eavesdropping when there is no reason to believe that the situation warrants it. Now, do you want to hear what they were talking about?"

"No." Harry retorted softly, still not quite able to believe that Mrs. Malfoy would approve of eavesdropping under any circumstances.

"It's about Uncle Severus." Draco teased lightly and grinned as his friend chewed his lip uncertainly, obviously wanting to know, but still a little too uptight – thanks to those stupid muggles to give in and admit that he did.

Taking pity on Harry, he blurted out, "Mother's going to get Uncle Severus married."

"What?!? I didn't know Professor Snape was going to get married."

"He probably doesn't either, but Mother's already picking out 'likely candidates'."

"But, what if he doesn't want to get married? What if he doesn't like who she picks out?"

"He will." Draco's response sounded so smug and all knowing that Harry had no idea what to say that wouldn't insult his friend or imply that his mom was meddling.

"Do you have both belts on?" Draco suddenly asked, changing subjects as why his mother might be trying to get his godfather married after so many years finally occurred to him.

"Uhh. Yeah, just like you showed me." Harry answered with a blush.

"Good. Let's get out there before she decides to come in and get us."

ブレンキン

"Boys…" Narcissa paused at the door, surprised to see them already heading towards the door.

Narcissa smiled at Harry's blushing discomfiture, but allowed them walk ahead of her as Draco lead the way to their studio. 

After studying Little Harry's stride and posture, Narcissa complimented herself on coming up with ballet practice as the child's detention. The child shuffled across the floor like a common drudge, and his posture was simply atrocious from having to cow and scrape to those repulsive creatures that Dumbledore had settled him with. 

Well, she would soon see that set to rights - on several counts, and a note to Severus was just the place to start. Motioning for them to head to the barre, Narcissa asked Draco to show Harry the beginning arm and foot positions, then pulled Harry's journal out of her pocket, moistened a finger tip and drew it across the top of the page.

"What is it Narcissa?" scrolled across the page in dark impatient letters.

"You certainly answered quickly." She commented with amusement.

"Narcissa! I am certain you realize that you are writing in a journal that I gave Harry to contact me with expediency, otherwise you would have simply owled your request."

"Unless I wished to be certain that the missive was kept private."

"If it is going to be a necessity for you to contact me so frequently, I will remit a charmed parchment by your husband. The journal is solely for Harry's use – except in emergency."

Narcissa smiled broadly as she read his terse responses. If there had been any further proof that she needed to convince her that he would have been an appropriate parent for Harry, his tense protectiveness of Harry's journal would have provided it.

"I'll await the parchment, then."

"Don't be ridiculous, Narcissa. What do you want?"

"I was simply curious whether you have discussed ballet lessons with Madame Pomfrey to improve Harry's posture and carriage?"

"It was discussed."

"To what conclusion."

"Providing his course of potions has the desired effect on the rehabilitation of his spine, when he returns I will offer the basic instruction and limited strength training... if he chooses. Why do you ask? "

"Simply an observation?"

"Narcissa, this is twice in one day that you're contacting me with seemingly trivial matters. What aren't you telling me?"

"Lucius will explain when he arrives. I really should get back to the boys. Draco has almost finished demonstrating the basic positions."

"NARCISSA…" Grinning as Severus's response flared across the page, Narcissa cast a light charm to protect their discussion … at least until Harry could read it, then turned back to the boys. Smiling encouragingly at her son, who had stepped back to coach his friend, she laid the journal on the piano lid, drew her wand, and cast a soft metronome spell.


	4. En Tournant Pionte

"Now in fifth, demi plie – un, deux, and elevé and hold. Harry, Dear, do turn out more. You are not practicing dressage."

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry answered on a wispy breath.

"Yes, yes, that is much better. Return to fifth position. Plie. Draco, Dearest, do soften that elbow and mind your extension."

"Yes, Mother."

"Yes, that's it. That's it. Excellent. You are both doing so well. I can not wait until Severus sees you at the barre. I bet the both of you ice cream sundaes from Flortescues, when you come home next that, he actually cracks a smile."

"Professor Snape smiles." Harry protested as he broke stance and turned on Narcissa.

"Harry!" Draco whispered as he rolled his eyes at his mother. He'd had no doubt that Harry would jump to their professor's defense and the little games that his mother was playing were really quite unnecessary. His mother didn't need to prove to his uncle Severus that Harry cared about him. Draco and his godfather had already discussed the fact that Harry was far too dependent on their approval precisely because he cared so deeply for them and was afraid of risking their displeasure on the merest possibility that they might turn away from him. "Mom knows that. She was just saying that he doesn't do it often."

"He does too!" Harry turned back on his friend crossing his arms defensively.

Harry absolutely hated disagreeing with Draco on anything, but he just couldn't let them talk about … his head of house like he wasn't a pleasant person. After all, everyone didn't go around shining like silk and sunshine, but that didn't mean that something was wrong with them. 

Still, he winced, realizing that it was rude of him to chastise them for talking about the professor when he was Draco's godfather- essentially family, and Harry had learned quite long ago from watching the Dursleys that family could say things about each other that outsiders, like him, had no right to take notice of, much less fuss about.

As he realized how far he'd slipped from proper decorum, Harry chewed his lip anxiously as he tried to think up a proper apology, until soft voice carried across the room and saved him the necessity.

ブレンキン

"Perhaps, you are simply more adept at recognizing my smiles, such as they are, Child."

"PROFESSOR!" Harry screamed as he whirled and ran to greet the Potions Master who was had just arrived; all thoughts of decorum and propriety having evaporated as surely as if they had never existed.

"Harry." Professor Snape replied with a soft smile when he crouched to lift the boy to his hip as if he were a much younger child - bringing a small, knowing smile to Narcissa's face as she turned to welcome her husband.

Lucius suspected that he would be facing months of his wife's smug smiles and jousts, but that was much preferred to the alternative – of admitting that not only was he fully aware of the child's influence over both his old friend and his son, but more than that, he was investing a great deal of time in the boy precisely for that very reason. Oh, there were other advantages that came with mentoring the child, including the fact that it kept his wife distracted from his other projects – several of which he was subtly funding from Grunning's discretionary accounts that falsely appeared to be under Vernon Dursley's control.

Under other circumstances, he might have taken more care to hide the paper trail leading back to Dursley, but as he watched his friend greet the child, he felt no remorse over the tainted trail that he aimed directly back at the loathsome muggle. 

Harry was, generally, acceptable – as far as children went: well-behaved, attentive, malleable, and appreciative of even the of the slightest of gestures. If the muggle had treated him with even the smallest of considerations, he would have had, without doubt, easy access to the greatest pleasures that could have been secured in the wizarding world – the child would have seen to that. The child's priceless gift to Severus at Christmas was certainly proof of that fact.

Over the niggling of jealously that he had felt at the gift, Lucius could look back on it more objectively, having spent much of the summer observing the child. Severus was neither a particularly kind not jovial man – in most instances, and certainly could never be described as doting – under any circumstances; however, unlike most children – including his own son, Draco – Harry did not seem to expect or require such coddling. Instead, the child appreciated Severus's most subdued expressions as though they were beaming approbations and his briefest silence as the most severe of verdicts. In fact, Lucious was quite certain that a nod of Severus's head would persuade Harry to any act.

And all won, as far as Lucius could see, with by Severus's mere performance of his duties.

During the Christmas break, Lucius had even made time to meet with several soon-to- graduate seventh years under the guise of interviewing them as candidates to any of his family's many business investments. To a one, under his careful legillimency, they had confirmed that, outside of the child's extended stay in the infirmary (most likely due to some disgusting muggle-transmitted illness), Severus had treated him no different than he had any of the other Slytherin first years, much less any other of that years Slytherin Seven. Yet, it had been enough to win the boy's probably-undying loyalty.

Ahhh, if only he had been placed to give the boy such small pittances and reap the benefits, but they would still be his. He was certain of that now, and Narcissa's little parental plot would see to it – for it was becoming abundantly apparent that with Harry came both Severus and Draco… and - he was beginning to suspect – possibly even Narcissa.

Despite her inherently Slytherin nature, he'd recently seen (since she took on the idea of finding Harry 'suitable' parents) an energy in Narcissa that he had not seen in years. Rather than the meaningless society wife that he had dreaded seeing her become, once Draco was off to school, since Christmas, Narcissa had seemed to revive the cunning and vivacity that had first attracted him. In a few short months, she had whittled her way through their social circuits and quickly came to the realization that Severus was the only possible father for the child: having both the necessary social and political connections as well as the magical strength and skill to protect the child on all fronts. 

The mother she had chosen was a unique choice to say the least, and Lucius was very much looking forward to the moment she announced the 'only logical choice'- quite certain that Harry was not the only one who was to be surprised today as neither Narcissa nor Severus had ever had the opportunity to see the other in a high temper. Lucius, having seen both, wasn't certain, for himself, who would win, but hoped that it was Narcissa – if only for the fact that they would be sharing the same room the remainder of the evening.

Turning his attention back to his family, Lucius smiled softly as he watched his son demonstrate the patterns that Narcissa had been coaching the children through when he and Severus arrived. As Draco finished, Severus carefully shifted the arm holding Harry so that he could clap softly.

"Extremely well done, Draco. Excellent extension and flexibility. Your elbow perhaps could have been softened, in the French style, but you would have satisfied even the most stringent Romanian and Russian instructors with your precise form and technique - so it is more the matter of a trade off."

"You know ballet, Sir?" Harry asked nervously, as if afraid he was asking too personal a question.

"Yes. Narcissa, Lucius, and I had the same instructor, Madam Ballalinka. I studied throughout most of my years at Hogwarts and taught her beginning levels over the summer and while I apprenticed for my Potions Mastery – to make ends meet. She was a harsh task Mistress, but I believe she may have been the only person I have ever known who was able to cower my father."

As Severus explained, Narcissa and Lucius shared a glance acknowledging their surprise that Severus being so open; he had never freely discussed those years even with them.

"Oh." Harry responded softly and chewed his lip softly before leaning into his professor's ear and whispering a question.

"Yes, I have spoken with Madam Pomfrey about the possibility after Narcissa suggested the idea, and she feels that, with several precautions, you would be able to take additional training."

"What about me?" Draco interrupted with a touch of worry or jealousy, Lucius couldn't tell from his son's tone, "Will I have to?"

Glancing down at Draco with an arched eyebrow, Severus reminded, "Perhaps that decision should wait until after quidditch try outs?"

"Oh, right." Draco sighed with relief, ignoring his mother's brief glower as it turned into a slightly mischievous smirk at the professor.

"Severus, I believe there was something you came to discuss with Harry?" Narcissa asked pointedly, and Lucius quickly changed his mind over the outcome. That little comment: the tiny little comment that Draco would and possibly should prefer quidditch to ballet had just insured that Narcissa would not let off until she won this evening. He could easily feel sorry for Severus if matters were not turning so neatly his way.

Nodding gently, Severus turned and watched the child in his arms solemnly before asking, "Harry, may I have a few moments of your time?"

"Of course, Sir." Harry answered quickly with a worried note, before turning to Narcissa and asking to be excused. When she nodded, Harry looked back to the professor expectantly.

"Lucius?"

"I have a wizard space den, just down the hall. There is a house elf waiting to open the door for you." Lucius gestured through the doors with an encouraging smile.


	5. Sissonne En Avant

As the house elf closed the doors behind him with an anxious look at Harry, Harry tried to straighten his singlet as much as possible. He dearly wished that he had his school robes on or even the new set of muggle clothing that his Aunt Petunia bought when she finally realized that she wouldn't be able to talk Lady Malfoy out of tutoring Harry.

"Harry, there's no need to feel nervous. I simply have a question to ask of you, and you may freely agree to it or reject it without the slightest concern or worry that I will be upset. Okay?"

For some reason, the professor's attempt to calm him and make clear that he wouldn't have to worry about whatever his decision was only made Harry more nervous because it meant that the question had to be important, didn't it? The professor wouldn't have asked for someplace private if it weren't important. Was he afraid that Harry would make a scene?

"Y-ye-s, Sir." Harry stammered out around the teeth that were already biting his lip.

Sighing softly, Severus gently reached out and tapped Harry's lower lip, where he had been gnawing it worriedly.

"No, I suspect you don't, but trying to calm you won't make this any easier, will it?"

Harry suspected it was a rhetorical question, but shook his head in case it wasn't.

"Very well." The professor paused studying Harry critically until the small Slytherin could barely keep from shifting in his seat.

"Harry, do you remember what you asked the sorting hat your first evening at Hogwarts?"

"Uhhhm…" Harry hemmed even though he did. 

He'd always remember that; he'd been so scared then so happy when the professor seemed to be promising that he wouldn't have to go back. But, was it a promise? He hadn't actually said anything of the sort for all the times that he told Harry that his uncle Vernon was mistaken, and Harry had still had to come back to Hogwarts in the fall. 

Things weren't so bad with the Dursley's this summer because of Draco's parents being around to distract them, but .. Was that it? Lady Malfoy had never said why they were tutoring him? Had he not caught up far enough in school then? Or, far enough to stay in school? He remembered from Christmas that the Malfoys were involved in several charities. Was he just another one? Were they only trying to help him because he was Draco's friend and if he didn't improve he wouldn't be able to stay in Draco's dorm anymore?

"Hhhhhifff. I seem to be just making you more nervous." Professor Snape complained softly before turning to the faux hearth behind Lord Malfoy's desk.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"Harry," the wizard sighed again, seeming disappointed before he continued his question, "do you remember saying that you didn't want to go back to the Dursleys?"

A tight little knot formed in Harry's throat, constricting his breath, as he realized what his head of house… or former head of house was going to say, but he answered anyway. The professor was already disappointed; there was no reason to make things worse.

"Yes, Sir."

"Harry, what if it were possible? I know that Headmaster Dumbledore explained that you needed to return to your relatives because of the blood wards, but what if it were possible for you to go somewhere else? Live somewhere else? Would you want to?"

"Sir?!?" This wasn't the question that Harry had expected, and he felt a little light headed even hearing it.

"Harry, if there were someone who wished to take you in, someone in the wizarding world, who wished to insure that the remainder of your childhood would be spent in a safe, comfortable, environment, who wished to be certain that all of your needs are not only provided for but met to your greatest wishes… would you be willing to take a chance on him?"

"I do-n't … Sir. I don't und-erstand." Trying as hard as he could, Harry still couldn't understand what the professor meant. 

Who could want something like that? Just for him? The Malfoys were helping him, but that was because of Draco. Wasn't it? The headmaster had come to visit him a couple of times, but Harry didn't think it was him; the headmaster was the one who said that he had to go back to the Dursleys' in the first place. If he wanted Harry, he surely wouldn't have done something like that. Would he? 

The professor was the only one who had ever wanted anything to do with Harry – enough to whisper his house to Harry when he was talking to the sorting hat – enough to argue with Salazar Slytherin's portrait for him. Professor Snape was the only one who….

"Y-you?!?" Harry asked in wonder. Could the professor really want him that much? Even knowing that he was a freak? Something in Harry's voice must have made the professor curious though because he turned back around wearing what Harry thought was almost a tentatively hopeful expression.

"Yes, Harry. Would you allow me to try to adopt you?"

"Sir." Harry gasped and swayed as his legs seemed to give out on him. 

Of all the curious things to notice, Harry's eyes were transfixed on the rip in the tights that he had borrowed from Draco as it slowly spread upward from the knee that had hit the floor first.

"Harry, Child, are you quite alright?"

Running his finger up the splitting silk, Harry looked up at the professor, and instead of answering his question, said the most absurd thing, "I think I split Draco's tights."

His voice sounded a little giddy to his own ears as he heard it, so he wasn't quite surprised that the professor looked somewhat amused as he knelt beside him, glanced down at the split in the tights, and agreed, "It would appear so."

"Can I buy him some more to replace these?" Harry stared up into the dark amused eyes that waited patiently, seeming to understand why he was focused on something so ridiculous. Daboia would have had a fit by now and called for Draco to sort him out.

"That can be arranged. Are you ready for me to help you up?"

"Yes, Sir." Harry answered almost wistfully, doubting that his jelly legs would hold him up, but shook his head when Professor Snape extended a hand to pull him up.

"Still feeling wobbly then?" The professor asked with an understanding smile.

"No… well, yes, but I meant. Yes, Sir."

"Harry?" It was little wonder, Harry knew, that the professor didn't understand what he was saying when he was answering things out of order.

"Sir, Yes. Could you please try to adopt me?" Harry was old enough to know that there was no guarantee, but that the professor would even want to try was more than he had let himself dream for in the longest time.

Professor Snape watched him quietly for what felt like the longest time, then nodded and turned to join him on the floor with his back to the desk.

"Take your time, and let me know when you are ready to stand, okay?"

"Yes, Sir." Harry began, when another thought struck.

"Sir, does Lady Malfoy know?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?"

"Is that why…"

"Why what?" the professor asked with an unbelievable amount of patience for Harry's odd questions.

"Is that why she is looking for candidates for you to marry, Sir?"

"She's WHAT?"


	6. Pas De Deux

The headmaster read the ornate silver note twice more before handing it over with amusement for his potions master to scan. He could hardly credit what he was reading:  
Dearest Headmaster Dumbledore:

I wish to extend a cordial invitation...." his voice trailed of as he continued, reading the missive to himself until he reached the last line: "please RSVP by visiting Madam Malkin's in Diagon Alley to be fitted for your costume.

Yours Sincerely,

Lady Narcissa Malfoy

"I was not aware that Harry had received formal dance training to the extent that Madam Malfoy would allow him to perform at any of her events, even his own birthday celebration." Albus commented with amusement.

"Oh, Lady Malfoy will dare a great many things for this celebration," Severus answered with a frightening scowl that barely softened as he finished, "but the child will dedicate himself to anything that he believes will please his elders, and has acquired no small amount of skill in a very brief time. Due to the flexibility provided by his abilities as a metamorphmagus, he is nearly on the same level as my godson, despite Draco's years of practice."

"Severus, my goodness, I would have thought that you would be at least resigned, if not eager to celebrate your charges birthday. Does this have anything to do with the fact that you will need to be costumed?"

"Pthhh!" Severus gestured as though he were flicking the ridiculous idea away. "I have already been fitted for my costume."

"Dare I ask who you will be?" Albus asked with impudently twinkling eyes. "Surely you have not been cast as Roethbart from Swan Lake?"

"No, though I suspect it would be preferable, the lady has a different fate in mind for me. I am being cast as Lucien d'Hervilly, the French Officer."

"Ahh, yes. Paquita: the tale of an illicit love affair between a gypsy and a noble. Well, she has an amusing sense of irony to be certain; although, I would have thought that she might have been a trace more sensitive to your parents' background… unless perhaps… you have done something to displease her?"

"Madam Malkin did mention that my costume was originally that of Conrad, the pirate captain from Le Corsaire." Severus admitted awkwardly.

"Severus, whatever did you do to peak the lady's ire?" Albus chuckled. The Lady Malfoy had always struck him as the human embodiment of a rose – beautiful almost beyond compare and possessing the sharpest of barbs.

"I disagreed with a little matter that she intended to persuade me of." Severus growled.

"Always an unwise choice, My boy. From what I have seen, if her husband had possessed the wit to heed her, he might have been in much better circumstances and much better acquaintances."

"She means to see me married, Albus!" Severus finally erupted.

"What a wonderful idea! May I ask who has she cast as the Lady Paquita?"

"Are you daft? Or, simply deaf? I said that Lady Malfoy intends to see me married before the year ends."

"A Christmas Wedding? How delightful. I shall have to cancel my holiday arrangements immediately and invite my grandnephew to stay here instead."

"You must be as daft as th— You knew!" Severus realized with a fierce scowl.

"The young lady contacted me when she received her invitation with quite understandable surprise."

"No doubt. Does she realize Narcissa's intent?" the grim, dreading tone in Severus's question softened Albus's amusement.

No doubt the young man found the prospect difficult to conceive of; even as a student, he had been rather solitary with the only strong attachment that he formed in love with his rival.

"I suspect not."

"Did you inform her?"

"Now that would hardly be sporting would it? No, I merely mentioned that it would benefit the order to have as many watchful eyes on hand as possible, given the hosts past acquaintances."

"You are as bad as Narcissa, practically ordering her there. At least, she would have felt comfortable refusing the invitation."

"My boy, she is far too young to start refusing invitations on the basis of a few socially awkward moments."

"Socially awkward moments?" Severus asked with sharp sarcasm. "She was one of my students, Albus."

"I find it difficult to believe that you would find it more comfortable to discuss your passion … for potions with someone who studied under your predecessor, Professor Slughorn?"

"Of course not."

"Certainly not his predecessor, Pheneas?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Severus retorted, rejecting the idea of attaching himself to someone old enough to be his grandmother.

"Well, there you have it, you must simply consign yourself to one of your students, if only for sanity's sake."

"But, Albus, surely you can not be in favor of this."

"How could you even ask that, Severus?" Albus asked gently, almost breaking into a smile as the potions master relaxed with a well surpressed air of disappointment and a distinct expression self-doubt. For all of his arrogant and intemperate posturing, the boy's confidence was such a shaky thing. "Of course, I approve. The two of you are inherently trustworthy. You have both proven yourselves in trying circumstances. You are unlikely to resent her for her background or wanting her own career, and if my memory serves me, she was never quite intimidated by your fits of temper – a quality I would think necessary in a mate. Aside from that you are equally powerful and have sufficient skills to protect young Harry, should the need ever arise. I think it is a very good match. Now, if you will excuse me, I must pop off to Madam Malkin's to be fitted for my costume. I do wonder who she has cast me as. The lady has such a delightful sense of humor."

Without another word, the headmaster swept out of his office, leaving Severus standing by his desk a bewildered state. The young man was really so easy to undo in such little ways that Albus almost felt guilty for his enjoyment. Almost, but it was difficult to feel truly guilty when he was so looking forward to the amusements of Harry's birthday party. Whatever else could be said of Lady Malfoy, if she leant her hand to an event, it became spectacular.

When Severus finally shook himself out of his amazement, the headmaster was gone, which was just as well, for the potions master was quite sure that he would have had no idea what to say. He had gotten no farther with the batty old wizard than he had gotten with Narcissa, and he was quite dumbfounded at how they had gotten the upper hand so easily. For Merlin's sake, he had needed a warning from Harry to even recognize what the witch had in mind, and when he had confronted her, every possible excuse he came up – she pierced as easily as a fencing dummy. Her anger alone had been a sight when he continued to refuse her.

The fact that Lucius felt he should take the boys on an outing, should have been a warning, in itself, but at that point, Severus was too peaked by Harry's warning to notice. He had the common sense to hold his temper until after they were out the door, thankfully, for he doubted that the child was quite ready to see the heights his temper could reach, but once the door was closed and a discreet layer of silencing spells cast, Severus turned to make his feelings known.


	7. Pass de deux part deux

Narcissa was quite prepared for Severus' impending rant; however, and had the first words out before he could even utter his complaint: "Severus, I have always regarded you as an intelligent wizard, but if you intend to stand there and tell me that you honestly believe that you can give the child all that he needs – I will have to lower my estimation of you a thousand-fold."

"Perhaps not all, but that's no reason to enter a reckless union. Sometimes, Narcissa, I really do wonder if you are not descended from Morgana – you seem to thrive on stirring up trouble."

"Oh, so you don't actually feel that the child deserves the benefit of a mother."

"He had a mother. One I can't replace with marriage of convenience with whatever cloying society tart you've managed to blackmail in to the proposition."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that, Severus. No one who travels in my circles would even take a second glance at you, as I am sure you are aware – with your doubtful background. I did not even spend a second on considering anyone of social standing, but looked for someone much closer to your level and affiliations."

"As much as I appreciate that you stooped to tour the b-list's tea parties and charities, it's much better not to even grope about for someone who…"

"Who would what, Severus? Care for the child? Sing him to sleep, wake for his nightmares, see to him when he's ill?"

"I can do those things, Narcissa. I am not entirely without compassion, and if you think so little of me, how can you have ever considered me a fit godfather for Draco?" Severus snarled wishing that he could throw something to offset the anger that she was stirring up.

Then, as if she had been waiting for those words, she turned them back on him just as the headmaster would later do: "Ahh, but that is precisely the problem, Severus. It's not I who thinks so little of you, it is yourself that you have to blame for the sneers that my society friends habitually give you. For years, after our marriage, when Lucius invited you to our little mixers, I would field question after question about my husband's tall, dark, rugged friend. If you had ever once softened, even enough to smile at any of them, despite your background and your then low prospects, you would have had many possible unions available when you finally decided to settle down, but you never softened your sneer, and now my friends – who do not even know you and have never heard anything but praise from my husband and myself- think as little of you as you do yourself. The young woman that I have selected for you is quite another sort, however, for she seems to see through your ever present glower and thinks quite highly of you."

"How far did you have to stoop to find her, then? St. Mungo's?"

"Oh, I hardly had to look much farther than my family tree, or should I say a limb broken from the family tree?"

"You can't mean…"

"Oh, I most certainly do. It would be a good match for both of you. You're both of mixed parentage. There's barely a ten year age difference, which is in your favor as its well known witches tend to mature in wisdom and humor much earlier than wizards do. Add to that the fact that both of you are under=appreciated by your peers and have become quite the recluse as a result. Those she works with refuse to take her seriously because of the avante garde humor that she inherited from her muggle father, and those she would socialize with would never take her seriously as a marriage prospect because of her ambitions if not her tainted bloodline."

"Ms. Tonks is both a young and intelligent woman; you must be under a confundus charm to believe that she would be in such an isolated state as you described, much less that she would seriously even consider an invitation coming from me."

"I'll thank you to insult only yourself. You may be the most observant of wizards, but as a wizard, or put more bluntly, as a man, there are matters that you quite naturally miss when you look down on our teas and social chatter."

"Perhaps, but this is nevertheless…"

"The best union you could hope for – socially …. and politically." Despite her moderate Narcissa stressed the last word heavily with the delay before she continued, "For yourself and Harry."

Eyeing her sharply, Severus stilled his expression at the charged words, sensing for the first time that there was something more going on than casual match-making behind her words, and murmured softly, "Explain."

"Severus, though my allegiance has always been firmly in Lucius's camp, I am not, nor have I ever been blind to his flaws."

"And this factors into our discussion, how?"

"I can easily anticipate the young ladies affiliations."

"As can I, Narcissa, but that does not answer my question."

She finally met his gaze with a surprisingly keen glint of strength that he had not noticed there in many years. She searched his eyes and sent a light probe to stroke his mental shields and remind him that Bella was not the only Black trained in legillimency.

"Even inside Hogwart's, you can not always be with Harry, and any wife that you would take should have the training, strength, and political power – of her own – to protect Harry … and your godson- if the future should turn as I suspect it might. She is a good match, Severus and I will not allow you to stand in the way of insuring my son's future – particularly when Harry benefits as well. There is nothing more to say on the matter."

Without another word, Narcissa swept from the room to join Harry and her family, whom she was certain were waiting for her nearby - at a small French bakery that Lucius had invested in.

Severus stopped by Madam Malkins for a final fitting then returned to the headmaster, hoping the old wizard could talk him out of making a fool of himself in the attempt to court the much younger auror. For all the good that had done.

Pulling away from his ruminations, Severus stalked back down the hall, slowly and pointedly dissecting their arguments piece by piece – looking for any flaw he could find. Instead, he only managed to add points to their arguments, including the fact that being a metamagamorpheus, herself, Ms. Tonks would have the better experience to guide Harry through all of the possible transformations he might attempt. Added to that, her naturally light nature might be what he needed to offset his own dour moods.

When that task yielded nothing, Severus finally turned toward his private quarts and gathered up a firewhiskey bottle and a small bowl of ice before sinking on to the couch in front of the fireplace.


	8. RSVP

I wish to extend a cordial invitation to attend the Globe Theater in London  
for the night of July thirty-first, from six pm to the natural end of the festivities.

We will be celebrating the twelfth anniversary of the birth of your student,  
Harold James Potter, Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter.  
The young lord's birthday party will be celebrated with a costume ball highlighting  
the ballet recital of young Lord Potter and his companion, the young Lord Malfoy.

They will be performing the battle scene between the Nutcracker Prince  
and the Rat King, with the guest of honor performing the title role.

In light of this, if it is to your convenience to attend, please RSVP  
by visiting Madam Malkin's in Diagon Alley to be fitted for your costume.

Yours Sincerely,  
Lady Narcissa Malfoy


	9. Pas de Trois

Fumbling with the chinstrap of the odd, tall, fur-covered soldier's cap that Lady Malfoy had called a shako, Harry tried to still his expression to hide his nervousness as the ghostly make up artist finished putting on the last touches to his make up. It wasn't the ghost that was making him nervous though. In his first year at Hogwarts, Harry had become accustomed to seeing ghosts, though never this close up, and he'd never been touched by one before, which was a funny, chilling kind of feeling that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Kind of like the way he felt about his birthday party.

He was thrilled that she would want to throw one for him, and touched that she went to so much trouble, but that worried him a little too. No, that worried him a lot. She had gone to a lot of trouble, and even rented a stage for him and Draco to dance on. What if no one came? 

Outside of his suite-mates, he really couldn't say that he had too many friends. Not that any of his year mates or even the older students treated him like the kids had at the muggle school he had attended with his cousin, it was just something about being in dorms and houses. People from different houses didn't seem to want to spend time with each other, and a lot of them really didn't treat the other kids in his house well. So, he really didn't think anyone would show up except maybe his aunt, uncle, and cousin, who wouldn't miss a chance at a free dinner, even if it was for his birthday.

He thought Professor Snape might, too; he hoped he would, but when the professor visited, he had said that there was quite a bit to get done before the beginning of school - so Harry had been afraid to ask him to take more time off than he already had. As it was, the Professor had already taken the extra time to check on Ahhsitha just because Harry had asked him, too.

"Young Sir, if you continue to readjust the chin strap, I will have to continue to re-apply your make up giving me no time to spend on your companions'." The ghost chastised softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Harry blushed and jerked his hand away."

"It is no trouble; I am after all a professional. I have been preparing actors and dancers to step out on the stage for over four hundred years and have seen many far more nervous than you."

"You have?"

"Of course. There have been many young actors to grace this stage with hands so dampened by sweat they could not hold the rails to climb the steps. Others were so frightened they took to drink before they mounted the stage, and sadly thus, some of the finest tragedies became sad comedies, and greatest comedies a tragic farce."

"Now, turn." The ghost circled her finger over his head until he faced the mirror and stared at himself in surprise.

"A finer Nutcracker Prince, I have never seen." The ghost assured him with a soft smile before departing to do Draco's make up, he assumed.

When he was finally alone, he reached out curious fingers to touch his image in the mirror. He couldn't believe it. He really did look like a prince of some kind. It was due to the wonderful costume that Lady Malfoy had specially ordered from Madam Malkins', and the make up, of course, but still he really did... He looked almost like a prince.

"Almost," a familiar voice murmured softly from behind him, seeming to read his thoughts. Darting his eyes up in surprise, Harry couldn't believe it when he saw his Professor dressed in a costume that while it wasn't identical to his looked very, very much like an adult version of his costume.

Professor Snape wore a shako, too, with a taller plume at its top. His coat was more ornate than Harry's and shorter, ending above the waist, but they were both in the same navy blue with gold lacing across the chest. Their tights too, had been constructed similarly so that they looked like breeches with short boots. The only major differences between their costumes was that the Professor was wearing a half cape over his shoulder and Harry's coat ended in tails.

"Sir?" Harry asked in surprise before darting over to hug the professor, before stopping short - only realizing barely in time, that doing so would mess up his make up.

"Harry," Severus answered with a smile and squeezed his shoulder with understanding. "You look very much the Prince."

"Thank you, Sir."

"There's only one thing missing."

"There is?" Harry could hardly believe it. When they were being fitted, Lady Malfoy had been very strict with Madam Malkin, specifying down to the button how his costume would look.

"Yes, you need, a hausse cols… a French gorget." Severus explained when it was clear that Harry didn't recognize either label: "It is a special plate that European officers wore during the Napoleonic era to protect their throat, but as it happens, by some chance, I seem to have an extra one on hand that I believe will fit you, perfectly." The professor slipped his hand beneath the half-cloak and pulled out an ornately embossed gold plate with a design that he had seen somewhere before.

Staring at it intently, he studied the moving design until he suddenly remembered where he had seen it: in Neville Longbottom's family handbook on the lineage of ancient houses.

As he glanced up at the professor for confirmation, Harry's throat tightened with the surge of longing and aching happiness at what it meant if he was right... and he couldn't manage to get the question out, but the Professor understood - as he always seemed to - and answered Harry's question without even needing to hear it.

"Yes, that is the Prince family crest – from my mother's family. When matters are settle officially, I will be able to commission an heir ring as you will be heir to my estate as well, but until then I wished for you to have a symbol of our family. It has been charmed feather-light, and I will cast a sticking spell to hold it in place so it doesn't disrupt you while you perform."

"Thank you, Sir." Harry answered almost breathlessly. He wanted to tell the professor how much the gesture meant to him, but the large lump in his throat seemed to be blocking his attempts.

"You're very welcome, Harry." Severus replied around a lump in his own throat, and gently took the plate back to fasten it at Harry's collar.

"Perfect. Now, you are the Nutcracker Prince." Severus murmured with amused smile at the pun as he turned Harry back to the mirror. Harry glanced at it briefly, but as handsome as the piece was, he couldn't keep his eyes away from the firm visage that was staring down at him with glistening dark eyes. It was only after he had stared so long that he felt like he was being rude that he mentioned something he had noticed seconds before.

"Your hair's in a pony tail."

"Would you like yours to be in one, as well?"

"I would, but it's too short." Harry complained softly.

"It needn't be." Severus suggested, as he knelt in front of Harry and blocked his view of the mirror, "You can use the metamorphic talents that you use to cover your scars, without requiring a specific spell. You've changed the length of your hair before."

"I was asleep then, though." Harry protested uncertainly.

"True, but I seem to remember more than one occasion when you have also used it consciously - for instance when Lucius visited you in the hospital, and for a more complex issue as well - supporting your barely healed spine. I am confident that this is well within your grasp, but if you would rather, I can spell your hair longer as well. Would you like to try it?"

Harry nodded, hesitantly, not wanting to disappoint. 

"Very well, then, close your eyes. Good." The professor coaxed as he slipped his fingers into Harry's locks, "Can you feel my fingers?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, enjoying the feel of professor's fingers carding gently through his hair. Mr. Dursley never even patted him on the head, much less finger-combed his hair like this, and it sometimes made Harry wonder why people seemed to think that Professor Snape was grumpy and mean... when it was obvious to Harry that he was so much nicer than 'normal' people. Harry was pretty sure that he'd never seen other parents and guardians do that - not even for their own children. The closest was Piers Polkiss's dad, who punched his son somewhat playfully in the shoulder. Mr. Dursley certainly didn't finger-comb Dudley's hair, not that he'd ever seen, and Lucius certainly didn't... It just didn't make sense why people seemed to think they were the nice ones when... 

A gentle tug on his hair brought Harry's attention back to his professor.

"Good. Now, I am going to pull very, very lightly on your hair, and I would like for you to imagine that your hair is going to extend like the tendrils of your little devil's snare plant to follow my fingers."

"Like Bernice?" the child asked, trying to picture the thin shoots that the plant Madam Sprout had given him sent out when she was hungry.

"Yes, just like Bernice's runners. Quiet your mind as we've practiced and try to imagine that."

Closing his eyes, and taking a long slow breath as he pushed aside his thoughts like they were tall bushes that he couldn't see through, Harry focused on imagining that his hair was moving like the shoots on Bernice's feeding stems - but taking careful thought to make certain that his image of his hair didn't change color or turn leafy as he wished for his hair to lengthen with all the pent up nerves, energy, and bittersweet emotion that had swelled inside him over the past several seconds. 

"Uhmm…Hi." Another voice sounded from the door just as he had the image of Bernice's tendrils captured in his thoughts.

"A moment please, Miss Tonks." Severus commented over Harry's shoulder before he glanced back down at his charge… and future son to note with surprise that the child's hair had seemed to take his explanation very much to heart and was curling around his fingers like growing tendrils of black silk.

The professor sighed with gentle amusement that he could still be surprised by the child, extracted his fingers from the curls that seemed to want to cling for a moment, and commented, "That's enough, Harry. Any longer, and it would not have been appropriate for a young man of your age. Heir to the Head of a Noble and Ancient household or no."

When the child's eyes flashed open with the astonished realization that he had followed the instructions, Severus's amusement dimmed softly – saddened by Harry's lack of confidence, but that was soon lightened by the child's hopeful tone when he asked if he could see.

"A moment." Severus delayed as he took a tissue from a box on the dressing table, transfigured it into a black silk ribbon that he used to tie the child's hair back. Curling a finger under Harry's chin, he turned the child's face back and forth until he was satisfied that the boy's hair would not distract him during the recital, then met Harry's eyes to be sure the child saw his satisfied nod before he rose and stepped out of the way.

"Oh," Harry murmured as he trailed a finger across the mirror image of his pony tail. "It's just like yours."

"Quite." Severus smiled softly at the child in the mirror. "Quite."

"That was beautifully done, Harry." The young woman who entered earlier commented. "Professor, Lady Malfoy asked that I retrieve you and young Lord Potter for your performances."

"Performances?" Harry turned curiously to the Professor.

"Yes, Harry, you are not the only one who will be called upon to perform this evening. In fact, would hardly be fitting to require that the guest of honor entertain the other guests all evening, at his own birthday celebration. Consider your performance an introduction of sorts, after wh Lord and Lady Malfoy will shortly perform piece from Swan Lake, and Narcissa has asked that I perform a variation from Paquita, and later, after dinner, Madam Ballalinka has loaned Lady Malfoy several of her seventh year students to perform the remainder of the Nutcracker Suite suite."

Harry was astonished that Draco's mother had put so much work into his birthday, but felt somewhat better that at least with the other dancers, there would be enough people there to share all the food that Lady Malfoy had ordered the house elves to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've received a message or two noting that Harry seems a bit on the pathetic side here. I don't apologize for that, from the start this Harry hasn't been the - in my mind - unrealistically resilient Harry of the movies and novels. Nor were the Dursleys, in this fic, as benign for the majority of the time that the novels seem to imply. 
> 
> I feel that by the time they would have gotten to the point of locking him a cupboard, not feeding him for days when he was younger and later -when they thought they might be watched a soup can's worth, swinging skillets at his head, allowing their son to indulge in "Harry Hunting" and hitting Harry openly with the school rod (I forget the name)... that realistically, the Dursleys behavior would have been far beyond the level of neglect implied in the novels and movies. As a result, I modeled this Harry closer to anecdotes and cases that I've heard of with heightened neglect and abuse. 
> 
> As a result, Harry isn't as emotionally developed (after all, how do you develop confidence when you're told by those closest you that your a good-for-nothing and freak and no one in your environment disputes it?). ...much less, self-reliant, and hasn't had the support to develop resilience and bravado we see in the movies, yet, but he will get there. He might even become the type of hero that we see in the final books, but it's going to take work on his and Sev's part to get there. 
> 
> If he seems a little wibbly right now, just realize that for the first time in his memory, he's been told he's wanted, offered friendship, acceptance, and caring- after spending ninety percent of his life being told and shown the opposite by the Dursleys in word and deed (and not having it disputed by neighbors, teachers, or others in the community, who could have stepped in.)


	10. Nutcracker Suite

"Paquita?" Harry paused trying to remember if Lady Malfoy had mentioned the ballet during any of the practices

Before Professor Snape could answer his question, the young lady, Miss Tonks, who was, he finally noticed, dressed in a tutu that seemed to be made from hundreds of brightly colored silk scarves, curtsied and elaborated, "Paquita was a young gypsy maiden, who saved the life of a young French Officer – in this case," she paused gesturing to his professor's costume, "A young French Calvary officer… A Hussar?"

At his nod, she continued: "A Hussar, whom she falls in love with only to later learn, by virtue of a magic charm, which she has worn since she was saved by the gypsies as a babe, that she is the young officer's distant cousin – of noble birth and able to marry the young man she adores. Lady Malfoy asked that we dance a Pas de Deux from the scene where Paquita becomes enamored with the Prince."

"Sir, are you all right?" Harry asked when he glanced at his professor and noticed that the wizard had gone very still and had the expression Harry thought of as his 'Slytherin face' tightly in place.

"What, Child?"

"He asked if you were alright, Professor." Miss Tonks answered with a mischievous smile.

"Yes, Harry, I am fine. Lady Malfoy simply neglected to mention that I would have a partner for the selection that Miss Tonks mentioned. I would have contacted Miss Tonks to rehearse if I had known."

"Oh," Harry murmured softly wondering how Lady Malfoy had forgotten something like that. 

She seemed to be so focused on such tiny details down to buttons and salt cubits. Yet, she had left out his Haw-sse cols, the professor said, but then he had brought one with his family crest on it, so Harry couldn't help but think that she had left it off for that reason.

If so... did it mean that may be she had a reason that leave off telling the professor about the change in his performance until the very last minute? Despite Harry's desire to give her the benefit of the doubt, it didn't seem like a very nice thing to do... especially when he and Draco had needed to practice for over a week to get the steps down in the right timing.

Seeming to answer his question, Professor Snape commented, "Lady Malfoy has a visc—rather biting sense of humor."

"I like it," Miss Tonks commented, "It puts you off guard, letting you think that you know how the joke will end, only to throw in a new punch line out of nowhere."

"Indeed. Well, Miss Tonks, I believe that I hear the ending strains of Lord and Lady Malfoy's performance, shall we prepare to mount the stage."

"Of course," she answered brightly, taking the professor's arm. "Harry, if you'll join us. I believe Lady Malfoy will tell you what to do once she's off stage, but she would like for us to escort you there so you won't wander off in search of birthday presents, as I hear young Draco did before his recital."

"Yes, Ma'am." Harry smiled, tucking her comment in the back of his mind to tease Draco with later.

As they walked down the short back stage hall leading to the stage, Harry looked around the hall of the famous theater as he had not had the chance to do when Lady Malfoy hustled him back to the dressing room after they had gotten a late start thanks to the Dursleys, who claimed that they had forgotten when they were to drop Harry off for the final fitting of his costume, earlier in the week. While he looked around, he heard Professor Snape and his dance partner talking quietly, but paid no attention until the professor stopped sharply, seeming almost in shock, and asked in a strangled voice, "You knew?!"

"Of course, I knew. I wouldn't be fit for the auror corps if I couldn't draw such an obvious conclusion from abundant evidence."

"And?" The professor's question startled Harry, but it wasn't really the question that drew his worried attention; it was the uncertainty that he heard in the professor's voice.

Miss Tonks shrugged lightly commenting only, "You know this isn't the first time I've seen you in tights."

"What?!" The professor stared at her perplexed by the non-sequitor.

"When I was a child, my mum was afraid that I was too much of what my father called a tom-boy and insisted that I take ballet training with Madam Ballalinka. I thought I was going to absolutely hate it because all of the girls in the class were pure bloods, and I had already seen how they treated me in day school, but Madam Ballalinka had this apprentice that coached us beginning students."

"He was a student himself, just a little older than a seventh year, and I thought it meant that he was going to be really nice to us in class. But, that was the furthest thing from the truth. Madam Ballalinka was harsh, a perfectionist, and completely unforgiving, and I've often wondered if that's where he learned that attitude - but she had nothing on him. He demanded that we practice our basic routines over and over and over until we had every step correct. If we missed a step, even just one, we had to stay after to work on it with him until we had it correct, and until we did, he was impatient, gruff, and as snappish as a grindylow. For the most part, he was nice to me, though, and never let the other girls get away with teasing me, or calling me names. After he fussed at Prissy Parkinson...well… "

As Miss Tonks spoke, Harry began to blink and stare at her in fascination. When he had first seen her in the mirror, she had seemed much younger than the professor, but now as he got a closer look, he wondered how he could have thought so. She didn't look as young as he had first thought, but if Professor Snape had taught her ballet as a child, she couldn't be quite as old as he thought she looked now. Still, there were lines at the creases of her eyes and mouth and age spots on her throat. Her eyebrows looked shaggier than he thought they had looked before and her hair much darker. The lighting in the dressing room must have been brighter than he thought, too, because, up close, her russet complexion really made her look like the gypsy girl she was dancing as.

"To tell the truth, I think I had a bit of a crush on him." Miss Tonks words drew him out of his reverie, and he turned to see Professor Snape's reaction to her comment.

The look of astonishment on the professor's was so humorous that Harry nearly giggled, only stopping himself in time with one of so many memories of how it felt to be laughed at.

He hated the thought of the professor ever feeling like that and quickly schooled his face in case the wizard happened to glance in his direction. As always, though, Professor Snape seemed to have the inside track on his thoughts and glanced his way at the exact moment his 'slytherin face' slid into place, but instead of the hurt or disappointment that he had expected to be there – the professor wore a wry expression as he reached out and patted Harry on an epaulet covered shoulder.

Determined not to let the clearly quick-witted woman get the upper hand, Severus turned back to Miss Tonks with a mischievous smirk as he asked, "Oh, do tell us more about this infatuation you had for the apprentice. Did you perhaps write poems to him in your diaries, as young girls often do, I'm told? Or add his surname to yours?"

When Miss Tonks blushed brightly in answer, Harry couldn't hold his giggle in – particularly when he glanced back at the professor's face, which was wearing an even greater expression of shock.

"You did?" the professor asked, and Harry was sure that had never heard the professor's voice sound so disbelieving.

Miss Tonks simply nodded and hurried her steps a bit to reach the ramp as Lady Malfoy, who had just appeared from in front of the curtains gestured for them to hurry.

Before they stepped out, though, she seemed to recover her sense of mischief and winked at Harry before tossing out a comment, "But, those weren't anything compared to some of the things I wrote in the library's potion texts. As I said, this isn't the first time I've seen you in tights... and I've always had an excellent imagination - especially when so little is left to my imagination."

Professor Snape stopped sharply and stared at her with a look that Harry couldn't interpret, then shook his head as he commented to Lady Malfoy, who was urging him up the stairs with a smirk: "Your sense of humor seems to know no boundaries."


	11. The Ballet Suite

From the where he stood at the edge of the steps, Harry was able to see the entire stage and was soon enthralled by his professor and Miss Tonk's performance.

In the entrée, Miss Tonks scurried on stage with tiny glissades and spotting curtains that crossed the edges of the stage just enough to separate the upstage and back stage, she darted to them in what Harry only recognized as swift little pas de bouree steps, peformed high en pointe, due to Lady Malfoy's tutelage. When she was safely in front of the curtains, seen by the audience, but presumably hidden from any action downstage, the professor swept on+B14stage as though he was in battle with several opponents. Though on pointe, Professor Snape moved powerfully across the stage with jete 'enterlace' turns and leaps. With each turn he seemed to be defending himself from a different opponent's onslaught and each leap stalked his attackers. In a grand jete leap, he appeared to avoid the sweep of an unseen blade. Jete after jete, he took to the air, appearing to avoid one strike after another. En tourant, he parried and blocked the attack of one blade after another as his arms swept through all positions in a formulaic full porte de bras. Harry held his breath in excitement as the professor swept from one move to the next, seeming unbeatable.

Miss Tonks had leaned forward with her foot lifted high behind her, in an arabesque, to peek around the edge of the curtains. She watched unmoving until in the middle of a leap, Professor Snape's step suddenly broke, and he dropped from en pointe to demi-pointe, barely rising on the balls of his feet. His arms dropped to second position - out to the side, angled down, with his palms facing forward, showing his grip empty - disarmed. His naturally staunch expression seemed to radiate defeat as he slowly, stiffly lifted his arms to first position, in front of him as if his wrists were being chained - then dropped them back to rest, bras au repose, palms facing each other, with his fingers barely touching and the back edge of the hands resting on the thighs. There was no question, as far as Harry was concerned, that although the professor's chin was still lifted in defiance, he had been captured.

As the lights on Professor Snape lowered until only his silhouette could be seen, Miss Tonks slowly returned her foot to the floor. The back of her hand came up infront of her lips, palm out to suggest as she waivered back and forth in anxious-seeming glissades - separated for the sight of the guards standing over the prone professor's silhouette. After a moment, when the guards departed stage-left - leaving only one behind to watch the prone man, she appeared to to come to a decision and swept back to the curtain, returning to the arabesque to peek around the curtain's edge - watching as the guared leaned against the prop tree and seemed to fall asleep. As she slowly swept her arms through the full porte de bras, she appeared to be checking all directions to be sure that the coast was clear. After a brief hesitation, she jumped on pointe and approached the professor's silhouette in slow, watchful, little kick steps. 

As he watched, Harry was so intent or trying to remember the name of the little steps that he was startled when Lady Malfoy's hand closed on his shoulder and shook it lightly.

"Harry," her hushed whisper had a touch of impatience that told Harry she had probably tried to call him more than once.

"Yes, Ma'am?" He whispered quietly as he half turned, trying to keep his eyes on the stage.

"Harry, if you would kindly pay attention." Her fingers flexed on his shoulders, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if she was going to dig her nails in the way that his Aunt Petunia did.

"Yes, Ma'am," he jerked upright, hopefully before he felt the need to, and answered nervously.

"It is time for you to take your place on the stage."

"But…" he glanced back to see the Professor and Miss Tonks engaged in the slow formal adage where both dancers partnered in a well-synchronized demonstration of time-developed movements that seemed almost exaggerated by the achingly slow speed in which they were performed.

"I am certain that you will be able to ask both your professor and my niece for an encore performance; however, this is your recital, and you do have duties – even as the guest of honor."

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry sighed before taking a quick glance back at the professor and his partner.

"If only Draco had your interest."

"Ma'am?"

"It's nothing, Harry. Simply, an unfulfilled hope that Draco would have found as much pleasure from _The Dance_ as you seem to."

"Oh…" Harry murmured, not certain what to say and finally finished the only way he could think of: "I'm sorry."

"There is certainly no need for you to be, Harry. If anything, his friendship with you, this year has affected several surprising changes in my son: changes, which give me hope that he is not so distant as I had once imagined. Now, come along, we really must not dawdle: the first strains of their coda have begun."

With that, Narcissa lead him behind the curtains and had him kneel to the left of an immense Christmas tree with wrapped packages taller than him. As he knelt, familiar voices whispered, "Happy Birthday, Harry." 

Jerking his head around swiftly, Harry was startled to see, Draco and Greg in costumes almost exactly like his – minus only the plume in their shakos, kneeling at the right of the tree. Millicent was stretched out just a few feet ahead of him on a bed of pillows. And further upstage, just within the curtains, his suitemates, Leonard Lukins and Christopher Nearguard were crouching on all fours, dressed in mice costumes. Leaving Oliver Dolohov as the rat King. 

Before Harry could call upstage to them, Millicent glared him to stay quiet as they heard the last notes of the musical accompaniment to the professor and his partner's performance fade away. Harry's stomach dropped when the last note fell away and the sound of clapping didn't immediately start. From what little he saw of it, Harry was absolutely certain that the performance had been stunning. If no one clapped, it could only mean that no one was out there because even the Dursley's would have known to clap at something like that.

Well, he had known that no one was coming all along, hadn't he? His suitemates, like Draco, had probably had their recitals years ago, so there really wasn't any need for their parents to hang around- he knew, but he had hoped that they would so that at least Lady Malfoy's work wouldn't go to waste. He had known not to expect any of his year mates. He really had, but after he had heard Lady Malfoy ordering invitations sent to his entire year, he had foolishly let himself get his hopes up – thinking that without Dudley at school, someone at least might think about coming.

"Boom," Draco whispered in concern as he noticed the birthday boy's crestfallen face, but before he could inquire further, the curtains began to rise, and Harry hurriedly shook his head, hoping to dispel his friend's concern.

Due to the stage lights, they couldn't see out into the theater, but for Harry, that was just as well; he was happier not seeing out there. It was enough for him to know that Professor Snape and the Malfoy's were probably watching, and they were the ones he would have wanted to be at his party anyway – above everyone else. And, they were here for this, as they had been at Christmas, and in the infirmary at Hogwarts, both times he had been hurt. They had taken him in and cared for him. Why was he caring that no one else had shown?

The audience he wanted was there, and they were the ones he wanted to dance for anyway.

Harry thought about how kindly the professor had been to him, throughout the year; the professor's reluctance to dance but that despite that Professor Snape had given a thrilling performance for his birthday; how much work the Malfoys had gone through to tutor him all summer and then to throw him the party on top of it; how Draco had been the best showing him the steps and positions over and over – time and again – until Harry had them down, and thinking of these ... gifts... Hary wanted more than anything else he had ever wanted to make his performance the best he could. With that thought in mind as the music started, something happened in Harry's thoughts that had never happened before.

All of the thoughts, insecurities, and worries that almost constantly plagued him from morning to night fell away. In those brief moments between one breath and the next, an instinct he wasn't aware he had took over and guided his movements. Before long, he was not even having to think about the moves as he made them. Even the movements that he had struggled with felt natural, and he found himself oddly conscious of simply being - existing in the moment, and enjoying it.

It was exhilarating, and he suddenly understood why Lady Malfoy had hoped that Draco would take pleasure in it.

As the music slowed, Harry slowly became aware of the exertion of his muscles, and the perspiration coating his forehead and trickling down to the small of his back. Although the theater had felt quite chilly before, heat radiated from his skin and was trapped in the now almost stifling costume. Thankfully, the curtains chose that moment to close, and he was able to sweep a palm across his face to wipe away the perspiration that was rolling into his eyes.

"Hhhhwouhhh!" He breathed out in a sigh of relief and glanced around to find Draco.

Lady Malfoy had said that the curtains would close and that he and Draco were to stand side by side in the middle of the stage, just behind the curtains so that they could bow properly when the curtains opened again. Instead of Draco's, though, the first face he spied was Millicent's, and he was forced to pause and study her in wonder.

Her face: it was her, but it wasn't her, all at the same time. Her expression was far softer than he had ever seen it before, and without the glare, she somehow looked like a much younger girl, a younger and happier girl. Her costume, a young girl's sleeping gown, only enhanced the effect. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and she was breathing a little fast as she approached. There was a thin sheen of perspiration over her cheeks as well, and on the hand that she was reaching out to him

"Daboia," he murmured softly as he took her hand and pulled her forward so that she would be in line with he and Draco. At the same time, he felt Draco come up beside him and take his hand. He spared his friend a quick thankful glance, knowing the curtains would be up in seconds, but quickly turned back to catch a last look at Millicent's face knowing that she would go back to her normal, public expression before the curtains rose.

It was almost a surprise to find her staring back at him with a curious but still soft expression. They studied each other for a long second, until Draco jerked his hand lightly alerting him to the fact that the curtains were up.

Embarrassed, at being caught off guard, Harry cast a sheepish glance forward, this time disappointed that he couldn't see past the edge of the stage. He was sure the professor would have watched and wanted to prepare himself for the professor's reaction before he spoke. As they had practiced, Harry and Draco straightened and held a statuesque attitude before bowing deeply and their suitemates did the same. When they stood up again, though, instead of bowing a second time as they had practiced, Draco and Millicent let go of his hand and with the others took a long step backward.

Harry was almost ready to turn and find out why they had done that, but thought at the last moment that it might have something to do with him being the guest of honor and stayed in place. After a second slow count of three, he bowed again, and was relieved to see his friends doing the same. This time as he bowed, the stage lights dimmed, and he thought he heard some movement beyond the edge of the stage.

When he stood, he was rocked by the sight of every balcony filled with witches and wizards. The round yard at the base of the stage was filled with at least twenty tables decorated stocked with food, but he now doubted that there would be enough, for at the outside of the yard, in a broad three quarter circle, beneath the balconies, three tiers of seats were filled with his entire house. Every year had someone there to represent them, and Harry suspected that it truly was his entire house.

He glanced around the amphitheater in awe, certain that he was hallucinating. This many people couldn't have… just couldn't have come for him. It wasn't possible. There were only three people he could think of who would be interested in attending his birthday – maybe four, if you counted Madam Pomfrey. As he looked around, he couldn't pick them out and knew that this had to be a figment. They would have been there, even if no one else was.

Then, just over his right shoulder, someone began to clap softly, and he turned to see that it was Professor Snape. How he had missed noticing the large, ornately decorated theater box, he had no idea, but now having found it, it was easy to discern his housemaster standing from his seat and applauding him. Lord and Lady Malfoy were standing beside him and next to an older woman with a rather stately tiara. For a second, he thought she looked like Queen Elizabeth, but that was impossible. Smiling down on him, she acknowledged him with a smile and joined the professor in clapping.

As if they had been waiting for precisely that moment, Lord and Lady Malfoy and the guests in the other balconies suddenly broke into furious applause. Other guests, who apparently didn't want their show of appreciation to be drowned out in a show of clapping, conjured a snowfall of white rose petals into the air and let them drift down to the stage around him. Others conjured fairy lights and baby's breath. Another conjured glistening soap bubbles but banished them when it became obvious that the wafty little sparklers were landing in and tainting the food. With a flick of an unseen wand, the tainted food was replaced with trays and goblets of other delicacies.

As he watched all of it, Harry felt his chest constrict. He couldn't believe this. In fact, he was almost light headed with disbelief, until Draco and Millicent came up on either side and loudly wished: "Happy Birthday, Harry."

On cue, the small orchestra, setting in an even deeper portion of the so called 'pit' that circled the stage, began to play the traditional birthday melody, and over a thousand voices picked up the tune. Out of all of them, however, he easily discerned the Professor's rich baritone and turned to meet the Professor's gaze.

It was by all standards – his best birthday ever, and Harry was certain that it could have ended right then without any other festivity or gift and would, nevertheless, remain so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming attractions: Severus and Harry receive an unexpected present, and the Dursleys 'get theirs'.


	12. A Birthday Surprise

During the song, Lady Malfoy made her way down to the stage to join her son, Miss Bulstrode, and their overwhelmed guest of honor.

Pausing at the edge of the stage to study the trio, Narcissa had to admit to herself that Miss Bulstrode appeared quite different than she had seemed in during her brief interview with Miss Bulstrode and the girl's mother, during which, the young Miss Bulstrode had seemed just as heavy-handed as her cloying and superficial mother. Narcissa had found the girl blunt, tactless, and lacking in grace and subtlety, despite the many etiquette, grace, dance, and music lessons that her mother had boasted of requiring her to take. Yet, of all of the appropriate young ladies Narcissa had interviewed, Miss Bulstrode seemed to be the only one with a trace of wit, intelligence, or ambition. In truth, those qualities seemed to be among the primary reasons that her father was trying to push her into an arranged marriage – before it became clear how few of her native qualities had been inherited from the superficially attractive but dull-witted man. If Narcissa were looking for an assistant for Draco or Harry, she had no doubt that the young lady would have been perfect, but for a wife. No. Narcissa had been absolutely certain that Miss Bulstrode should have been nothing more to Harry than a place holder until she could find the appropriate match – until the young woman stepped on stage. 

During their performance, Narcissa had quickly noticed that both Miss Bulstrode and Harry had thrown themselves enthusiastically into their performance, and in doing so, had truly inhabited their roles instead of simply dancing them - adding a grace that belied the immaturity and imperfection of their forms, their not infrequent missteps, and their clearly limited training. Neither would match Draco or Young Miss Parkinson, in terms of grace or form; however, their engagement in their performance and enthusiasm gave the recital the sense of joy and pride that few formal recitals truly offered. Even Draco's, she thought, had paled by comparison - Draco only performing at the social ritual to please his parents, but without any true joy for the activity. 

Narcissa had not failed to notice, either, that while awkward at first, Miss Bulstrode seemed to blossom into her role, rising to match Harry's slightly higher skill (affored by the young man's recent intensive practice with Narcissa and Draco). This was especially true when the two were paired. Alone, her grace was less certain, but when they were together – for some inexplicable reason, the young woman gained something. Neither had Narcissa missed the long look of interest that Harry had been giving the girl as the curtains lifted nor the soft expression of curiosity as she returned his look. It was just such a look between Draco and Pansy that had finally convinced her to choose Miss Parkinson for her son, but Narcissa was not quite certain if Harry's unconscious interest would be enough to sway the decision in the girl's favor. The question of what might gained in encouraging such a choice and how Narcissa could best make use of it would have to wait for another day, however, as Narcissa had guests to attend.

Quickly finding his abhorrent aunt's eyes as she leaned in to give Harry a gentle hug, Narcissa smirked softly. She knew that Harry would probably think that the party was her gift to him, but she and Lucius had a much greater surprise waiting backstage for Harry: a surprise that she was certain the Dursleys were not going to like in the slightest.

"Harry, would you like to say something?"

When the normally subservient child failed to answer, Narcissa glanced down to find him staring out at the audience, entranced. 

Catching his hand and squeezing it gently, Narcissa drew his attention back and asked, "Harry, Dear, is there anything you would like to say to your guests?"

For the briefest moment, Narcissa caught her breath as a glimmer of deep seemingly unquenchable pain then seething anger passed through his bright emerald eyes before he nodded and the glimmer faded into a gossamer shield just behind the still glowing innocence in the child's eyes. 

"If I may?" Harry asked with hesitation, seeming more like himself, but as she saw a look of predatory pleasure cross his face before he turned back to speak, Narcissa suddenly suspected that what he was about to say might be very surprising. 

"Certainly, would you like me to cast a sonorous?"

"No, Ma'am, thank you. I'll be heard." He answered with odd confidence.

ブレンキン

Taking several steps further upstage, Harry noticeably scanned the balconies, intentionally making eye contact with as many as he could before he began to speak.

"Your Majesty, Lord and Lady Malfoy, Professor Snape, My Friends, My House, My Many Guests," he began in a voice that carried to every seat without seeming as if he had raised his voice at all. "Thank you for coming to both my recital and my first birthday. I only hope you can understand how special this celebration is to me. There are several people, whom I would like to thank, but in particular, I would like to express my greatest thanks to the people whom I was placed with as a child, my biological aunt, Petunia Evans Dursley; my uncle by marriage, Vernon Dudley Dursley; and my cousin, Dudley Vernon Dursley."

Harry paused as he heard Draco give a scandalized hiss from behind him and turned to give his friend reassuring glance, but didn't comment as he noticed Lady Malfoy silencing her son with a quelling glance. He almost winced at the thought of offending her, but if he stopped right there - there'd be no way to explain to her, Draco, or Mr. Malfoy, why he was going to say what he was... So he got right to it, hoping they would understand by the end of it. 

"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley, would you please stand?"

"Aunt, Uncle: Thank you, I sincerely doubt that I would have been able to truly appreciate this evening as fully as I do if you had ever relented from your strict refusal to indulge me with birthday parties when I was younger."

After addressing them and ignoring their shocked gasps, Harry turned his eyes back to his audience, explaining: "Instead, from my earliest memories, I have dreamt of having a birthday party, watching year after year, as my cousin blew out his birthday candles. Hoping fruitlessly that I would learn to control my bouts of accidental magic - though I did not know what they were then – so that I could earn my birthday - filled me with a incredible longing to believe that I was worthy of such a celebration, a longing to know that I matter to someone enough that they would even want remember the day I was born, and a longing to have others share it with me."

As he spoke, the aching sincerity of his words reached every member of his audience and caused them all to turn, in growing anger, to the Dursleys who were still standing and staring at him with aghast shock.

Harry barely noticed that only Severus was not pausing to listen to his words as the professor made his way to the stage, possibly hearing something in the Harry's voice that he was only just now noticing himself - something he was not entirely certain he was ready to face - so suddenly - regardless of his unexpected burst of boldness. 

"That longing," he choked out in a tight almost breathless voice, "has finally been quenched… And for that, I must thank you."

"Even as I was stepping out onto the stage this evening, I was afraid that Lady Malfoy had gone to all of the incredible efforts that she has – only to be disappointed when no one cared enough to show up."But, you came, and in doing so, have made this a birthday beyond all of my dreams. Even if I live to be as old as Merlin, I am absolutely sure that I will remember this above and beyond all other birthdays. ... For that, I thank you. I thank you and ask that you please stay for the wonderful festivities that Lady Malfoy has arranged. Lord Malfoy, his family, and Professor Snape kindly took me in at the holidays – and showed me my first true Christmas - so I know where of I speak when I say that there are undoubtedly many fabulous delicacies and wondrous entertainments that she has waiting for you. Thank you again for coming."

ブレンキン

Even after Harry finished speaking, his guests and his relatives were frozen in disturbed bewilderment. Narcissa, by contrast was stepping forward to calm the astonishing child, even as she reconsidered her estimations of the Harry. Despite his apparent readiness to expose himself to dangerous situations on Draco and Severus's behalf - proven by Harry's headlong rush to fly between Draco and the bludger and the potential injury he faced in filling the acromantula eggs with basilisk venom - Narcissa had come to believe that the trials of his childhood had sapped him of the volatility inherent in his Gryffindor heritage. The possibility had never occured to her that instead of being squelched, that volitility had simply been submerged into an incredibly slytherin sense of timing and cunning. 

Well aware that the majority of his guests had spent the past ten years believing that the boy-who-lived had been raised in a pampered environment – not one where he would be raised to doubt his worth so deeply -- Narcissa fully appreciated, in a way that Harry was probably too young to understand, how his announcement would rock them. Certainly, his speech had proven that he recognized how the reversal of their expectations would further their desire to support and protect him, but -still a child, himself- she doubted that he would recognize the inherent condemnation that they would likely feel at having already so thoroughly failed to protect the child that many of them deemed - rightly or wrongly - to be responsible for their freedom. As a result, in one fell swoop, delivered an unscripted and utterly humble speech of sincere gratitude, young Harry had very likely - unknowingly - secured for himself an army of defenders... not by greed or potential gain, but by their own sense of honor. 

A single glance around the room, scanning his housemates, his guests, and even Draco and Miss Bulstrode confirmed Narcissa's suspicions, and she could not have been more pleased for the fact or it's impact for her son. While Harry would risk life and limb to throw himself in front of Draco, from the determination in the faces of her guests, it was apparent to Narcissa that there were more than three hundred powerful and influential adult witches and wizards present willing to throw themselves in front of Harry - in essence, triple shielding her son. 

Even his housemates, though they must have heard his pledge and confession, seemed to have never realized that he would have even been denied birthdays and Christmases and appeared to be torn between wanting to cause serious injury to the Dursleys for taking away something so precious from their friend and doing what they could to make sure that he never went another year without a birthday, while the remainder of his suitemates stared at him as if they didn't know him, wondering why he had never said a thing about not having holidays and birthdays to them. Other than herself, only Harry, Severus, Draco, Millicent, and the Dursleys appeared to have shaken off the shock and were finally.

As Harry's shoulder began to tremble under her fingertips, his normal reserve and hesitation abruptly seeming to reassert itself - if somewhat violently, Narcissa announced, "While I am truly honored by Dear Harry's endorsement of the appetizers and repast being provided, we would be even further honored if you to enjoy the delicacies from our banquet tables, while we poor performers change from our dance attire into something more suitable to continue the celebrations in. For those of you who indicated that you would not be able to stay past the performance, please don't forget to stop by the guest book as you depart. We have charmed to provide a selection of appetizers and favors for you to take with you for later enjoyment.

Catching Draco's and Millicent's gazes, when Harry still hadn't moved, she turned the child gently and nodded her approval as they each took a hand and lead the stunned seeming child away, pausing only when they noticed his uncle moving forward. While she couldn't see Draco nor Millicent's expression, from the reaction of Harry's aunt and cousin, who seemed very aware of the two young Slytherins' eyes on them - paled and stepped back quickly- she suspected it was akin to raw anger if not near hatred that they saw there.

The uncle for his part, seeming oblivious to not only the children's expressions, his family's intimidation, and the obvious antipathy of their surrounding audience, but also to Severus's headlong path toward Harry who was being lead offstage, was stalking - red-faced and clearly intending violence - toward Harry.

Although she had not planned to address the matter until after Severus gave Harry his birthday present, the child's speech and the uncle's reaction seemed to offer too ideal an opportunity. Glancing up to Lucius, who seemed - amusingly - just as stunned as the rest of their audience, Narcissa raised an eyebrow questioningly and smiled as is face colored slightly with embarrassment at being caught out. It took him a second to realize her question, but following her suggestive glance towards the impending confrontation, he whispered into Elizabeth's ear with a gesture toward the back stage. 

Smiling indulgently, Narcissa stepped off stage to the growing murmurs of compliments from their many guests, secure in the knowledge that as the social event of the season, this one would be impossible to top. 


	13. Le Changement Se Degagé

Harry was shaking as he was quietly led downstage as though he could fade out of sight from his guests by suddenly moving into the shadows. He couldn't figure out what had come over him. He really couldn't. One minute, he had intended to just thank everyone for coming when he didn't believe they would and then the next he was getting really angry for believing that they wouldn't, but for the first time the anger hadn't been at himself… as it always had been before.

In the past, when he had been told that no one would want to visit him, he had just accepted it as a given. That no one wanted to remember the birthday of a boy who kept doing such freaky things – a given. A given - that why he had lost his birthdays, in the first place, was because he couldn't stop doing freaky things.

But, now, he knew they weren't freaky things.

He knew that what his aunt and uncle had described as freaky were just as natural for young witches and wizards as baby talk was to toddlers, and that being able to do them didn't make him evil like the Dursleys said, and when that was the only thing that he had done wrong -because now he knew from talking to some of the other muggle-raised slytherins that muggle children didn't get as much work in a week as his Uncle Vernon gave him in a day – he knew that he had never, never done anything to warrant losing his birthday. 

He had never even thrown the kind of tantrums that Dudley did. Dudley's birthdays had been lavish by Surrey standards, while he'd had to steal one of Dudley's half melted birthday candles from the trash if he wanted to have a candle that he could light by himself at midnight if he wanted any sort of birthday remembrance at all, trying to find some small joy in the remembrance though it had hurt to believe that no one cared and that it was his fault for being so freaky.

He knew, now, that his aunt and uncle's cruelties and neglect had not been truly based on any fault on his part, that their opinions were not the only opinions that mattered (the Malfoys who'd known him less than a year still cared enough to give him a nice birthday, and his professor cared enough to give him a home), that he wasn't freaky, and that they were the ones who were wrong... who had always been wrong, and all of his fears and anxieties had only been because they were just mean all the way through… And, it made him angry.

He had been frustrated, disappointed, upset, but he had never allowed himself to be angry before… at least not angry enough that he was a little mad; but, he had been more than a little mad- he'd practically been crazy to let himself say the things he did. That was the first rule of the Dursleys' house that Harry absolutely had no right to say anything embarrassing to or about his relatives, especially not in public. 

He had been angry, the mad kind of angry, and he still was. He was angry enough that if they came near him right now, he just knew he would hex them all over the place, and then he would get thrown out of Hogwarts, and he would have to go back to them, and then things would really get bad because he'd broken the rules, and they'd blame him and go back to telling him he was wrong and freaky and evil and... And, that thought really made him mad. It was a big ball bitter acidy feeling that just kept rolling over and over into his stomach as he thought about it. It rolled over and over and over in his stomach until he thought it would never stop, and that scared him.

Lady Malfoy had put so much effort into the party for him and he didn't want to ruin it, but he was so mad that he felt like he had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming his hatred at his relatives. He wanted to be, even for a second, as mean to them as they had been to him and it was a sickening thought. He wasn't a Dursley; hadn't they always told him that? He shouldn't want to be like that. His anger just rolled over more at that thought – so much so that he didn't notice the curtains fluttering and snapping behind him.

He wasn't really noticing anything at that point, not seeing the dismay on Draco's face or Professor Snape approaching. It wasn't that he had his eyes closed or that things had gotten blurry like they did when he took his glasses off, but it was like he had felt when he was dancing – swept up just in the way it felt. The only thing he was truly aware of was the burning ball of anger twisted in his stomach and made him feel almost like he would have to sick up in front of everybody to get rid of it. Swallowing gulps of air, he fought to keep it down as he continued to back toward the curtains sot that he could at least be hidden when he did purge it.

/Little One/ Severus hissed, after casting a silencing spell around them.

He used Ahhsitha's parsletongue term for Harry – hoping to break through the child's fit. So far, though, calling to the child, shaking his shoulder, and squeezing his tiny, tightly clenched fists had no effect. If this did not work, the only option he saw left was legillimency, but that was a truly dangerous route when dealing with traumatized children who were just as likely to retreat even further within themselves to avoid what the mind naturally viewed as an assault.

/Little One./ Severus repeated when Harry's small fists spasmed once – giving Severus hope that the child heard him.

"S-i-r?" Harry finally asked as his eyes seemed to clear.

"Yes, Harry. I'm here."

"Sir. I-I …" the child's voice sounded pitifully frightened despite his earlier bravado.

"Tell me what's wrong, Harry, and I will help you as best as I can."

"I feel like I have to sick up, but there's nothing to sick up –nothing inside me- but heat- and feeling bad- and … and… I w-ant – I feel like I want – t-o…" Harry broke off dropping his eyes to the ground, afraid of what his professor would think if he knew what Harry was feeling … what Harry wanted. 

" I understand what you are feeling at the moment, and I will not judge you for it."

"Because of your father?" Harry asked uncomfortably, but he had to be certain that the Professor really did know because if the Professor really didn't understand - and Harry told him – the wizard might just decide that he didn't want to adopt Harry anymore.

"Yes. Because of my father, I know what you are feeling, but you should state it clearly. Acknowledge it to and for yourself."

"I. Can't." Harry knew it wasn't a good rule that the Dursleys had ingrained in him, but it was too hard to break… more than he already had. "Please, I can't."

"Very well, Harry," Severus responded with a soft nod as he reached out to capture one of the child's tiny fists. "You are angry. Justifiably angry at everything they have said and done to you for as long as you can remember."

The child stilled as Severus slowly unclenched his hand and rubbed his palm were Harry's nails had bitten into his skin. Taking the child's silence as agreement, he continued.

"So angry that it probably terrifies you with the way it feels. You may even want to reach out and hurt them – to treat them the way they treated you so that they would know how much it hurts."

As he said it, Harry's fist tightened convulsively, but it was clenched less tightly the second time and was little trouble for Severus to peel open as he spoke.

"But, as much as you may want them to feel that, to understand that. You know that it will not matter. That nothing -- nothing -- you say or do can change the past or make them treat you the way that they should have, and if you do act like them without a good reason – it would make you worse than anything they have ever accused you of…"

The second fist was clenched more tightly, but Severus's gentle fingers had soon pried it open and was massaging the skin that would have been bleeding if Harry's nails had been one trace sharper.

"It would make you like them."

Harry stiffened at the words, but Severus pressed on.

"Am I right?"

"Y-eeee-ssss." The child answered with an almost breathless hiss.

"I understand, Harry. I want you to listen to me, though. What I am about to say might not seem like it makes sense, but it is true nevertheless. The way you are feeling right now – as horrible and ugly and painful of a feeling as it feels – is right."

"What? No. No. I shouldn't feel this way. This is wrong!" Harry protested, hating the thought that his Professor wanted him to feel this way.

"No. Harry. You shouldn't have been made to feel this way. No child. No. Child. Should. But – given the way that you have been treated- it is perfectly normal and right for you to have these feelings. Think of the fizzy whizzies that you and Draco had at the end of the year party. What happened then they were shaken and the caps were taken off?"

"A big jet of fizzy foam shot in the air, but that was fun." Harry answered closing his eyes to picture the expressions on his friend's faces as the bottled drinks erupted with multi-colored foam that shot at least three feet high. As he focused on the memory, the blaze in his stomach started to ease so he thought about it harder – about the way Draco laughed when Lukins used the foam sliding off his glass to paint a rainbow mustache over his lip – not knowing that the foam colors would not come off for days – the way Millicent cocked her head oddly–trying not to laugh at him - as she studied the clown nose he had dabbed on himself with the foam. Even Ahhsitha had found the colored nose funny when he came down to ask her advice on how he might get it off. No one else seemed to know, which became apparent when Professor Snape spent the rest of the week wearing a rainbow streak across his cheek like war paint.

"Exactly. Harry, I know. I am just using it to demonstrate the principle." Severus stroked his palm gently, pleased that the memory was helping to sooth the child. "Liken yourself to the to the fizzy. Your atrocious aunt, unctuous uncle, and crude cousin have kept you under pressure for so long, shaking you up when ever they got the chance, but you have never been able to … take the lid off, and now you have. There's bound to be a bit of an eruption."

"But, I don't want to erupt." Harry whinged for the first time in Severus's memory. "It's my birthday, and I don't want to ruin it because of them. I don't even want them here. They never wanted this for me. They never wanted me to have friends. To have someone who cared enough the think I was worth a party. They never wanted me to have a party, or presents, or someone to sing the birthday song for me – like you did - and now that I have one, I just know …"

"You just know what Harry?"

"They'll just want to ruin it for me. Probably want to drag me home and put me in my cupboard for the rest of the summer… probably without food and just a bucket to use for a toilet. I…"

Before Severus could interrupt and promise that he would never let that happen, Vernon Dursley came up from behind, intentionally bumping into the professor as he pushed by to grab Harry's arm and jerk it roughly, growling: "To right you are. You're never going back to that freak school if I have anything to say about it. We send you away a barely manageable little beast and here you come back a vicious, malicious, little snipe trying to ruin what should have been a happy event, and just proving that we were right all along. A little freak like you doesn't deserve a birthday, and trust me, you won't have one ever again. You'll be in you cupboard so long that you won't even remember what a party is when you come out, and you certainly won't whinge about what we have or haven't given you – just because you're some kind of freaky charity case. We don't take the dole from anyone no matter how high and mighty so you can forget your tutoring while your at it."

Not aware that the professor had dropped the delimited silencing charm that had prevented Dursley from hearing them as soon as the fat oaf had jostled him, Dursley was shouting as he jerked the child back and forth and only stopped when he felt Severus's wand pushed directly into his throat.

"Unhand Harry, you worthless piece of human debris. I said: unhand him. Now."

"What do you think you can do in front of all these witnesses, eh?" Vernon asked smugly. "It's assault plain and simple, and there are a score of witnesses who can say that they saw you put your wand at my throat when I was just trying to take that filthy little mongrel home." Turning his attention back to Harry, he snarled: "Marge was right about you, runt."

"Turn around, Dursley. Now." Severus ordered the repugnant pig as he watched Harry pale.

"Why?"

"I want you to take a look at your supposed witnesses."

When Dursley turned, he was immediately terrified by the sight of a stage filled with young witches and wizards from the nearest seats to the stage – all with their wands pointed at him and dangerous expressions on their faces. As soon as his eyes focused, he could see beyond them to the mezzanines and balconies and was able to pick out dozens of adult wizards with their wands directed at him.

"Now, now. Can't you see that he was trying to prevent me from taking the boy home?" Dursley coaxed loudly. "Surely, you can't expect Petunia and I to let the child get away with embarrassing his family in public? He needs to go home where he can be soundly disciplined. Wouldn't you do the same with your own children if they tried a stunt like this?" Dursley appealed to the angry audience.

"We heard you, you fat clot." Dolohov accused.

"What? No, there was a spell when I came up. You couldn't have heard me."

"You utter moron. I cast the spell. Do you think I can't cancel my own spell?" Severus snarled.

"It doesn't matter what you heard. I'm the boy's guardian and he's coming with me now."

"No, he's not, and though it is hardly surprising, you are onece again incalculably wrong on all counts." Severus sneered before turning back to Harry had backed away and was now flanked on all sides by his suite mates, all of whom had their wands aimed at the filthy muggle at close range. For the briefest second, Severus hoped that the vile man would make the wrong move and discover the torture of being subject to countless simultaneous spells. Of course, it would likely prove fatal, but a great many of the injuries that the fat oaf had forced on Harry would have been fatal if it were not for his metamorphmagus abilities.

"I am sorry to spoil the surprise Harry; I had hoped that you might have memory of one pleasant evening with your relatives before I whisked you away, but..." Severus explained as he slid a hand up to the French gorget at his throat and twisted the Prince family emblem until it opened like a locket letting a shrunken scroll of parchment fall like a snowflake into his palm. Enlarging it, he broke the seal and handed it to Harry to read.

"Happy Birthday, Harry." Severus commented when the child read it quickly and looked up at him with awe-filled eyes. The words were barely out of his mouth when he was staggered by Harry's sudden unexpected leap and almost strangling hug.

"Thank you. Thank. You. Thank You. Oh. Thank. You. Thank. You. Thank. You. Thank You. Oh. Thank. You. Thank. You." Harry sang a litany of gratitude into Severus's shoulder not stopping, even when Severus explained to Dursley.

"This afternoon, I had the privilege of petitioning for the guardianship and adoption of Harry. After I offered pensieved memories of Harry's physical and emotional condition on his first day at Hogwarts, reports from Mediwitch Poppy Pomfrey, and the testimony of a variety of witnesses, the Board for the Security, Safety, and Welfare of Wizarding Children has granted me the great honor of Harry's custody and guardianship. If, in a year's time, he is still amenable, it will be my privilege to adopt Harry and present him to our world as my heir and son."


End file.
